Double Cross
by steffy2106
Summary: Sherlock is back after playing dead for 2 years. People have moved on or at least have tried to, but the imprints he left are more permanent then they would think. Molly Hooper is a perfect example. While investigating a polemical murder involving the Catholic Church, Sherlock and Molly might find more than they were bargaining for. Sherlolly, John/Mary. Spoilers for Season 3.
1. Chapter 1

**A.N: **Hey Guys!

I am obsessively infatuated with Sherlock and I am a hardcore Sherlolly shipper, I decided to join the ship and write my own Sherlolly. Please note it will contain spoilers for season 3. I also want to take a minute to thank my beta readers: Midnight Angel414 and Sherlockdrinkstea. Thank you Georgia for all you hard work and kind words it meant the world to me.

I don't owned Sherlock or its characters; I just own the storyline of this fanfic and any OC.

Leave me a quick review…I love them almost as much as I love Sherlock.

Steffy2106

**Chapter 1:**

_'Moriarty slipped up, he made a mistake. There is the one person he thought didn't matter at all to me was the one person that mattered the most.'_

Sherlock's voice rang clearly in her head. As if he had just said it. Had it really been two weeks since he had leant in close and breathed those scintillating words in her ear?

Molly pulled some weeds out of the garden. What had he meant by it? Did she matter the most in his escape plan or in his life?

Molly sighed, shaking her head, willing her memory of Sherlock away. What she had felt for him had been poison to her heart and brain, making her blind to anyone else…leaving her in a desperate state of "maybe one day". But then he left and with him gone, she had started to reconstruct her life. She had met Tom and moved on. Or at least she thought she had. But when Sherlock had murmured those words, his blue eyes locking with hers, whispering that she _mattered_, she -

Something wet on her cheek brought her back to reality.

"Hi there Cujo!" She laughed patting the black Labrador's head.

He licked her face again. "Okay, okay we're good now." She wiped her cheek and turned to see Tom leaning against the bay window. "When did you get back?"

He shrugged, burying his hands in his pockets. "A few minutes, but you seemed lost in your thoughts. Feeling better?"

She nodded, standing up and brushing dust off her trousers. "I… yes thank you, if not for these bloody weeds suffocating my gardenias."

"We missed you today," Tom replied, reaching for Cujo's collar. "Is your headache gone?"

Molly gave him a guilty smile and nodded. Tom's parents had organized a big barbecue (as they did every so often) and Molly enjoyed going there, usually because they were like a family to her. They were such warm people who had adopted her like a daughter, but these days it didn't seem right. Looking at them made her feel guilty and she was not sure why. It wasn't like she was cheating on Tom or anything - and yet she had felt like a giant arse ever since Sherlock had returned.

Tom sighed as if he didn't quite believe her, but dropped it as he did every time. "This was for you in the post. I'm going to hop in the shower." He took a tentative step toward her, kissing her quickly on the forehead. "I love you Moll."

"You too," she whispered, but she couldn't help but avert her eyes to look down at the envelope in her hands. When she looked up again both Tom and Cujo were gone.

She walked back in the house, served herself a glass of wine and opened the envelope. It was an invitation for John and Mary's wedding. Molly frowned when she saw it said "Molly Hooper and guest". Wasn't it customary to send an invitation to both names when people were engaged? The invitation should say 'Molly Hooper and Tom Bailey'. Molly started to pat Toby. "It's getting complicated isn't it?" She was probably just overthinking it all. Mary and John only met Tom once; they probably simply forgot his name.

"Moll, sweetheart, I think we need to talk about something."

Molly swiveled on her stool to face Tom. "Sure." Her phone started to ring. "Just go on, the voicemail can pick that up."

Tom nodded. "I just wonder what's wrong. Did I do anything wrong? If I did I'm sorry."

"No, Tom, never! Are you daft? You didn't do anything, you're perfect," she said sincerely.

"It's just-" The phone started to ring again. Tom sighed with exasperation. Molly quickly looked at the screen. "It's Lestrade, I need to get that."

"Moll, it's your day off. We need to talk about –"

Molly raised a finger in a "hold that thought" gesture and answered. "Molly speaking."

"Molly, sorry we need you at the morgue."

"Why? Isn't Doctor Kane working? I'm off this weekend."

Lestrade sighed. "I know and I'm sorry but I had no other choice than to call you. I-"

Molly heard an angry voice in the background. "Is that Sherlock?"

Lestrade sighed once more and she could almost see him rolling his eyes. "Who else? He doesn't know Doctor Kane and refuses to work with him. He says that he needs his pathologist."

Molly heart rate increased at the possessiveness behind the term and she hated herself for that. She looked up and met Tom eyes. He had always been patient and understanding as far as her job was concerned but right now the only thing she could see in his eyes was anger and frustration.

"For any other case I would tell him to suck it up or to wait until Monday but- but I think this one will be quite polemical."

"He is a creature of habit," confirmed Molly, knowing she was going to give in, like she always did.

"Is it Molly Hooper? Give me the phone." She heard Sherlock's muffled voice.

"Molly?"

"Yes."

"We need you. How could anyone expect me to work with this pale imitation of a pathologist? This man is clearly a drunk."

"No, he isn't, not anymore."

"That's no concern of mine. I need the best and you, Molly Hooper, are the best I have."

Molly knew it was a backhanded compliment but coming from Sherlock she couldn't help but smile. "It's my day off," she said, not even able to convince herself.

"Is your personal life more important than justice for a murder? I thought better of you, Molly Hooper."

"Fine." She glanced at the clock. She wanted to shower and change before going to St. Bart. "Give me an hour."

"We don't have an hour to waste; we already wasted too much time arguing about getting you here."

Molly rolled her eyes, she could kiss goodbye to changing her clothes and the shower. "Okay, give me 15 minutes. It's the best I can do. Hello?"

"Sorry, it's me again; Sherlock said you were on your way."

"Yes, I'll be right there." She hung up and looked at Tom.

He shook his head. "Don't tell me. You have to go."

"It's for work Tom, you know that."

"I don't need to be a detective to know Sherlock Holmes requested your presence."

"It has nothing to do with him."

"Are you sure about that, Moll?"

Molly nodded, fidgeting with the end of her ponytail. Tom shook his head.

"We can talk when I come back," she added apologetically, reaching for her bag and keys. "I'm sorry."

Tom looked at her thoughtfully. "I'll be here, Molly…. I'll be here."


	2. Chapter 2

**A.N**: Hey Sherlock lovers!

I didn't expect to update for a little while but this story got so much activity I wanted to thank you by updating earlier.

Thank you so much for all the followers and favorites. Thanks to Katieswar123, rachelalexandra, and guest for their reviews it means a lot.

I also wanted to thanks Georgia (sherlockdrinkstea) for her amazing beta abilities. She is great, quick and give great and insightful comments…How perfect is that?

I still don't own Sherlock.

Don't forget to leave me a little review I love reading you .

Steffy2106

**Chapter 2**:

"Took you long enough" Sherlock barked as soon as Molly walked into the room. He paced back and forth, hands locked behind his back.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, well got here as fast as I could."

Sherlock turned to her and stopped mid-strode. "You look horrendous. What happened to you?"

Molly looked down at her clothes; she wasn't even wearing the worst of her 'work around the house' clothes. "What's wrong with me?"

Sherlock opened his mouth but a very loud throat clearing from John was his cue to shut it.

He shook his head instead. " Nothing, " he said, pointing to a closed office door. "I won't work with him."

"Yeah I got that loud and clear. Just give me a minute."

Molly came back dressed in her white lab coat. "So where's the body?"

Sherlock pointed to one of the autopsy table. She slipped on her gloves and started to circle the table to have a general appraisal look at the body.

"So are we good here?" Asked Lestrade in the corner. "I really need to go back to the precinct and start question witnesses."

"Why did you leave if you were needed?" asked Molly.

Lestrade threw a glance at Sherlock. "I was trying to prevent World War III."

She nodded - it made complete sense.

Sherlock frowned. " I am not that difficult to deal with!"

That got a simultaneous snort from Molly and John.

"You can go, I've got it covered." Molly shone the light on the victim's neck.

"Thanks again Molly, we owe you one." Lestrade reached for his hat, preparing to leave. Sherlock looked up.

"We don't owe her anything - it's her job. "

Molly rolled her eyes. "You're welcome, Greg."

"Greg?" Sherlock whispered with disbelief.

As Lestrade left the stuffy lab John's phone started to ring.

Sherlock threw a quick look at the clock. " That's Mary; she's probably with the wedding planner and needs your input. You should get that if you don't want to anger her."

John looked at his phone screen and answered, exiting the morgue at the same time.

"So, what do you think?" Sherlock asked Molly - who was now probing the temple of the victim.

"Well, based on this quick examination I'll say she was strangled and received a forceful blow on the temple. Judging by the bruising, I don't believe that the strangulation killed her. Either it was two attempts to her life or the killer changed method in between."

"See. That's why you're the best, Molly Hooper. The drunk thought she _died by strangulation!_" Sherlock shouted towards Kane's office.

"Shhhh! Sherlock, stop it!" Molly scowled, but she couldn't stop the wave of pleasure rearing up when he said she was the best.

"Don't be ashamed by your brilliance Molly, it's very rare to find. You should embrace it."

"I do Sherlock, I know I'm smart but it's not a reason to rub it in other people's faces."

"Why not?" He asked, seriously confused.

Molly sighed, shaking her head. "Oh Sherlock…" her words trailed off and she frowned, looking at the strangulation marks.

"What is it?"

"Those marks around the neck are quite peculiar. I've never seen such a pattern before." She looked up and met Sherlock's icy blue eyes." Why was this case so important? If it isn't for the strange pattern of the object use to strangle her, it seems like a pretty straight forward autopsy to me."

Sherlock shook his head, bringing his fingertips under his chin. "It does seem so, doesn't it? But the truth is that this murder will emblaze the press. I need to have it resolved sooner rather than later and to do that I need to have access to the best deductions and the best persons, and you, Molly Hooper, are_ my _pathologist."

Molly blushed at his reference to her being his, she knew it was only work related but it affected her just the same. She could feel her engagement ring burning a hole in her pocket, she knew she wasn't doing anything bad but the feelings were there.

"The truth is at this stage the victim is irrelevant" Sherlock was still speaking.

"What's so peculiar then?"

"She was found at the Westminster Abbey, hanging by her feet naked on the cross by the altar, her arms spread out like a reversed cross."

"That's terrible!" Molly squeaked. "Who would do something like that?!"

"That, Molly, is something I intend to find out very soon." Sherlock gave her his lopsided grin that made her heart melt. He sighed. "So, what about your fiancé?"

"What about him?" She asked, immediately on her guard.

"What's his name?"

"Tom."

"His full name."

"Why do you want to know?"

"Isn't it customary for someone who cares about another to be concerned with the other's life? You're one of the most important people in my life, Molly."

"I am?"

"Don't ask stupid questions, you are very well aware of the fact." He said, irritated. His hand rose in a dismissive gesture.

"I just don't want you to go around and ruin him for me."

"Why would I do that? He is who you chose to be with, and I trust your judgment even if your two most recent experiences show a clear attraction toward sociopaths. Statistically speaking, the likelihood of this man being a sociopath _as well_ is close to none."

Molly opened her mouth but closed it again. He was right, why would he ruin Tom for her? _Jealousy_ a little voice screamed in her head… but Sherlock wasn't jealous. He was possessive and hated changes but he was not jealous. "His name is Tom Bailey, he's 36 and he's an engineer for South West trains and contrary to what _you _seem to think, he doesn't find me horrendous, he never did." She added against her best advice. His words earlier had hurt more than she expected.

Sherlock's eyebrows shot up in surprise, seemingly taken aback by such a comment. He opened his mouth and was just about to speak when John entered the morgue again.

"Perfect timing as usual, John." Sherlock breathed sarcastically.

"What?"

"Well." Molly felt the need to change the subject. "This is all I can say from the preliminary examination of the body. Let me grab you a picture of the patterns around her neck. I'll email you the autopsy report as soon as I'm done."

"How long do you think it will take?" asked Sherlock.

"Based on the nature of the case I'll work as fast as possible. I'll do the full autopsy tonight and ask the lab report to accelerate but…" She shrugged. "I'll say 48 hours, tops."

"We'll pick up the report," said Sherlock, fastening his scarf.

"No, Sherlock. I don't think it's wise I'll…I'll email it to you."

John frowned before glaring at Sherlock. "Is everything alright, Molly?"

Molly forced a smile but she knew Sherlock would see right through it. "I'm fine John it's just - we don't need more drama with Dr. Kane do we?"

It was clear from John's face that he didn't believe a word of it but he smiled nevertheless. John left first, but just before he followed him, Sherlock whirled around and caught the flapping door.

"I don't know what I said to offend you Molly , but I'm…. I'm sorry."

Molly rolled her eyes. _You never know and yet you hit bulls-eye every time_ she thought. "It's fine, Sherlock."

"You know, statistically, a man over 35 who has never been married has a greater chance of having an emotional disorder. Your fiancé is 36, you said?"

"Yes and you're 38!" She snapped.

"Do you need a better example Dr. Hooper? I am, after all, a sociopath." He grinned.

She chuckled along with him, shaking her head dismissively. "I need to work, Sherlock. Go away." She looked away and started to prepare the body for the autopsy. Sherlock could read her like an open book and she didn't want him to read her this time.

"One more thing before I go… I shouldn't have said you looked horrendous, even if you did. You are always pretty Molly Hooper but if your fiancé told you that you looked lovely in these clothes he is nothing more than a liar."

Molly looked up, startled, but Sherlock was already gone. She knew she should have been angry - he had just called her fiancé a liar - and yet she couldn't wipe the smile from her face because she hadn't missed the fact that Sherlock just said he found her pretty.


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N: **Hello my sweet Sherlock loving friends!

Even if I have to admit I am a bit bumped by the low number of reviews BUT the high number of favorite/followers led me to think you're enjoy it. Thanks so much to Georgia for being a Rock Star Beta.

Anyways here is chapter 3 I hope you continue liking it.

I still don't own Sherlock.

Steffy2106

**Chapter 3: **

"What exactly did you say to her?" John asked as soon as they exited St Bart.

"Nothing! Why do you automatically assume that her mood had anything to do with me? She might be menstruating."

John grimaced as he got into the taxi. "You're such a git sometimes one starts to wonder."

"How can a doctor be so uncomfortable at the mention of women physiology?" Sherlock asked tilting his head in confusion.

"And I believe you are _way_ too comfortable. "

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about John, its nature. Nothing more, nothing less."

"You didn't tell her anything about her fiancé did you? You promised."

"Firstly, I never promised anything. If I recall correctly, which of course I do, I said I wouldn't say a word. I _never_ said that my silence would last forever. But no, I didn't say anything about him." Sherlock looked out of the cab window.

"She's finally moving on, and-"

"Are you serious, John? This man is almost _identical_ to me. She is not moving on, she's in denial."

"Maybe she isn't. Maybe she just has a type." John tried, but his tone was anything but convincing.

Sherlock snorted. "You even called him Sherlock 2.0 behind her back, which is obviously wrong and insulting."

John nodded. "You're right; we shouldn't have done that behind her back. It was quite insulting to her."

"I didn't mean it was insulting to her! It's insulting to _me_." Sherlock added indignantly as they reached Scotland Yard.

"Why on earth is it insulting to you, Sherlock?"

"Well the simple notion of 2.0 implies that it's a better version than the original and there is no way this man could be better than me in any way, shape or form. I am clearly taller, more attractive and much smarter than him…This 2.0 implication is ridiculous."

"He is certainly 2.0 in the sentiment department. He won't spend his every living moment crushing Molly's heart and just for that, I think he is a 2.0."

"I still disagree with your conclusion. He might be slight more apropos in one area but I win in everything else."

"Yes Sherlock but right now, this 'area' is all that matters."

"It doesn't matter anyway; I have no say in Molly Hooper's life. Now let's concentrate on work John, the matters of the heart hold no interest to my eyes."

"Sure they don't."

"Do you have anything new?" Asked Sherlock, storming into Lestrade's office.

"You could at least knock!"

"Why should I? I could clearly see you were alone in the office and the phone was down. I am not interrupting anything. So?" Sherlock sat down smartly, resting his fingertips under his chin.

Lestrade threw an exasperated glance to John. "_That_ I didn't miss. Anyways, we found the identity of the victim. You were right about her."

"Why do you still sound surprised about these things Jeremy?"

"Greg!"

"Yes Greg. I am always right."

"Show-off" John stage whispered.

Sherlock threw him a dark look. "Who is she?"

"Her name is Lindsey Potter, 31 years old. As you guessed-'

"I don't guess inspector."

"Sorry…. As you _deduced_, she was from the country side, mid-bourgeoisie. She was quite educated and earned a Masters in Arts from the University of Manchester. She moved to London about two years ago and was working for an art gallery. You only had one thing wrong. "

"That's impossible."

Lestrade had a half smiled. He knew it almost killed Sherlock to be wrong. "Well you told us she was in a serious relationship; however everybody she knew claimed she was single. There is nothing in her flat, computer or phone that suggests the existence of a boyfriend."

"Well they are wrong and I am right."

"Sherlock, it's okay to be wrong every once in a while," said Lestrade, in a tone that one would use when dealing with an impatient child.

"I know it is, I am just _not_. I'll have to prove it to you. Anyway, what about the witnesses? "

"Well this is more difficult, as you know the abbey is quite closely tied to the royal family and the clergy has always been more or less protected by the power in place. We can ask them for testimonies but there is only so much we can ask them."

"May I interrogate them with you?"

"That is not a good idea, they are already guarded and you… well… don't exactly come across as friendly."

"Do you say that because I consider them as delusional fools who believe in a superior power they have no empiric proof ever existed?"

"Yeah, that's partially it and also because-"

"You're an arsehole." Added John.

Lestrade nodded. "That too."

Sherlock stood up. "So what do we do?"

"You can stay behind the glass, you can see them and here them that's all."

"Father Franklin is waiting for you in interrogation room number 2." Said Donovan, opening the door.

She completely ignored Sherlock and John, which was a step up from her usual disdain, and yet Sherlock found himself suddenly missing it. Her complete lack of intelligence coupled with her impoliteness made her a perfect frustration release for Sherlock.

Sherlock and John stood behind the glass.

"My view from here is quite restricted so therefore my analysis of this man will be impaired." Sherlock said with evident frustration pacing in front of the glass trying to take as much in as he could.

"Don't get worked up, it's just a priest."

"Just a priest? What's that supposed to mean? A priest can't hurt? A priest can't kill? Please John."

Sherlock rested his hands on the glass and concentrated on the priest. "Male, early 30's… based on his bitten nails he has a tendency to stress, he didn't join the orders until quite late in his life, I would say mid-twenties. He comes from a poor family and has a lot of siblings, five I would say. He-" Sherlock stopped. "He just lied," he whispered.

"What?" John asked taking a couple of steps toward Sherlock.

"What did Lestrade just asked him?"

"He asked him if he knew the victim, he answered he never saw her before."

"He lied… He lied!" Sherlock shouted banging loudly on the glass.

Lestrade turned around and glared at the mirror.

"Sherlock! Stop it!" John pulled him away from the window.

Sherlock turned to face John. "He lied! I want to know why." With one fluid movement that would make any ballerina jealous, Sherlock dodged John and left the room.

"Why are you lying?!" He demanded, striding into the interrogation room.

"Sherlock, for the love of-"

Sherlock pointed to the priest. "You know the victim, why are you pretending otherwise?"

The priest visibly paled. "I, no! Why would I lie?"

"I don't know why, I just know you _are_ and I'm asking you why."

"Sherlock! Out!" Lestrade said, pushing him towards the door.

"But-"

"I said out!" He shouted, closing the door loudly in Sherlock face.

"Unbelievable" John growled, shaking his head.

"I know! I come in to save the day and he throws me out."

"No Sherlock, you're unbelievable. You couldn't just stop yourself for a minute could you? Why not wait for Lestrade to be done, huh? No, of course not. The great Sherlock Homes had to make a theatrical entrance! You're such a drama queen!"

Just then, Lestrade erupted from the room, slamming the door behind him. "Thank you _ever_ so much Sherlock, now he's refusing to talk until we call the diocese lawyer. You know what that means? You're just so _brilliant_."

"But he was lying!"

"So what?"

Sherlock crunched his eyebrows in confusion. "So what? Isn't your role supposed to seek the truth? You might not be very good at it but I'm pretty sure it's what you're supposed to do."

"You scared him, Sherlock. That's not the proper way to deal with things. You should have waited once I was done and tell me. We could have investigated it much more discreetly. Now he knows we know the truth and will hide behind the diocese."

Sherlock shrugged. "It doesn't really matter, he didn't kill the girl."

"Why did you act that way then?!"

"Because he's a drama queen." John stated, still glaring.

"_Because_ he might have a motive. How do you expect me to draw an accurate conclusion if I don't have all the elements?"

"Well good luck for getting them now."

"I don't need luck, I'm Sherlock Holmes, the world's best consulting detective. "

"You're the world _**ONLY**_ consulting detective, Sherlock."

"It's one and the same John. Lestrade, call me if you have anything. I will contact you as soon as I have figured out the ties between Father Franklin and Ms. Potter."

Sherlock exited Scotland Yard and lit a cigarette before looking up and down the street. "So what do we do now? Follow the priest around? He saw me but he didn't see you."

John glanced down at his watch. "It's getting late, Sherlock. I'm supposed to meet Mary and her sister for dinner in less than 30 minutes."

"Ah yes, the joy of the marital life." Sherlock nodded sarcastically. "Very well John, I will work on the case tonight. I shall see you in the morning."

"Well…"

"What, John?"

"We have an appointment with the caterer at 10. I won't be in before the afternoon."

Sherlock threw away his cigarette and buried his hand in his coat pockets. "You're not married yet and this relationship is getting in the way of our work."

"I'm sure you can deal without me for a few hours."

"Of course I can! I've been doing it for much longer than I've known you. You just help me get my ideas in order."

"Well then, I shouldn't feel guilty. If I'm so irrelevant, maybe I should try to concentrate more on my upcoming wedding instead of only being part of the absolutely necessary. See you in the afternoon, Sherlock."

Sherlock shook his head as he watched John's retreating form. What was up with people today? First Molly, now John. He sighed and started off in the direction of 221B Baker Street. People's feelings were just as confusing, irritating and irrational as ever.

Sherlock spent the whole night looking at the wall where he had put up all the pictures and other elements they had on the case. When the sun started to rise, he wasn't even a step closer to get an answer. Reason why the priest lied? Unknown. Motive behind the girl's murder? Unknown. Reason of the theatrical disposal of the corpse? Unknown.

Sherlock growled, sat on his chair and ruffled his hair. He needed John, or someone of equal intelligence to help him think.

"Have you slept at all, Sherlock?" Asked Mrs. Hudson, entering the flat with a tray containing steaming tea and a couple of crumpets.

"You very well know the answer to that, Mrs. Hudson." Replied Sherlock, not even bothering to look away from his wall.

"Here, you need to eat, have these crumpets. I promised them I'll take care of you."

"Sure…" Sherlock said vaguely. He hadn't listened to a word.

"Oh dear, these are terrible! Why would you put them up on the wall for everyone to see?!"

"Nobody asked you to come up, Mrs. Hudson! If they bother you so much just stay in your flat!" Sherlock snapped, jumping from his chair. He sighed, seeing the hurt in the old lady's face. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hudson, this case is highly frustrating."

The older lady nodded, patting Sherlock's arm. "I understand, dear. This is such a disturbing case. Killing someone in a church… I almost feel like retrieving my mother's rosary and going to pray for the first time in years."

Sherlock frowned. "Rosary…Rosary…" He let his eyes wander on the pictures to stop on one. "Of course! Mrs Hudson, you're a genius!"

The older lady giggled at Sherlock's complete change of mood. He went from total apathy to completely excited.

At the same time, Sherlock's laptop beeped loudly, announcing new emails. He looked at it:

_From: Molly Hooper_

_Subject: Preliminary autopsy report. _

Sherlock scrolled down the report and started to laugh, things were getting clearer now. He grabbed his coat in one hand and a crumpet in the other. "I should be back soon, Mrs. Hudson. Thanks for breakfast!" He added, rushing down the stairs. He might not have John to help him think today but he knew of someone who worked almost as well, a person that never could refuse him anything…Molly Hooper.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** Hey guys!

Chapter 4. Sorry I didn't update before but I lost my job yesterday… not something I expected so as you can imagine I am kind of bumped right now. Leave me a little review or something I have to admit it will probably cheer me up a bit. Once more let me thank Georgia for proofreading my story. You are fantastic.

Are you enjoying the story?

**Chapter 4: **

"So, Toby, what do you want us to do today?" Molly asked the cat which was lazily sprawled on the counter as she washed the breakfast dishes. "It seems our friend Cujo has already figured out his day." She chuckled, looking at the dog snoring by the fireplace.

"This is tremendously unhygienic." She heard a baritone voice come from beside her.

Molly squeaked and jumped backwards, breaking a cup and cutting her hand in the process. "Sweet baby- God! Are you trying to give me a heart-attack?" She asked angrily, reaching for a tea towel and making a pressure point on her hand.

Sherlock walked in from the open bay window. "Well if you're so jumpy maybe you shouldn't leave this house so easily accessible to everyone. Let me see that." He said, extending his hand.

"Yes, well, I don't know anybody who would want to access it."

"Obviously you're wrong since I'm here." He sighed when he saw Molly still standing with her hand clutched to her chest. He reached up and wrapped his hand around her wrist pulling her towards him. He took off the towel and inspected the cut. "You should be more careful Molly Hooper, with your natural attraction for sociopaths, you should maybe make it more challenging for people to access your home undetected."

The butterflies in her stomach started to go crazy, butterflies she thought were now desensitized to anything Sherlock related and yet, just having his fingers wrapped around her wrist and his hot breath on her palm was enough to make them go crazy. "Well Tom isn't a sociopath and we have sex, a lot." She blurted, not even understanding why she would say something like that.

Sherlock completely ignored her comment. "It's okay, just a shallow cut. You don't need stiches." He added looking up to meet her eyes.

Molly snatched her wrist away, she hated him at that moment. It was like he was taking a sadistic pleasure to torture her but she knew he was just too oblivious to do something like that. "I know what to do Sherlock, I'm a doctor remember?"

"A pathologist."

"What are you doing here? In my home?" She asked reaching for the first aid kit under the sink and starting to treat the cut. When Sherlock didn't answer she looked at him. He was looking down, head tilted to one side and eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

"What?"

"Why are you wearing those ridiculous things?"

She looked down at her bunny sleepers. "What's wrong with them?" She asked defensively. "They're warm and soft."

"They're also rabbits. It's one of the most ridiculous things I have ever seen! I never thought that your inadequate fashion style was also strong concerning your nightwear choices as well."

"If you came all the way here to insult me, Sherlock, then you're wasting your time. Next time you think of an insult just send an email okay? It'll save you a trip."

"Well I wouldn't have had to come all the way here if you had been at St Bart, where you're supposed to be. Why aren't you there?"

"Are you serious?" She asked, putting the first aid kit back in its spot.

"Always."

"Maybe because somebody called me on my day off and I worked on the autopsy and the report until way after midnight." She said angrily throwing away the pieces of her broken cup. When she had come home Tom was already asleep but she knew he was beyond mad and she couldn't blame him. This morning he had left without a word and she knew that the conversation tonight would be painful.

"It's not a reason to miss work."

"Actually yes it is, St Bart doesn't allow overtime anymore and you aren't a good excuse."

"I should be."

Molly rolled her eyes. "What do you want, Sherlock?"

"Your brain."

She raised an eyebrow. "You know, you might want to be more specific."

"John is busy and I need to think. You are the second best."

Molly chuckled. "You really know how to make someone feel special don't you? And what makes you think I'm not busy?"

'You're still in your pajamas and your ridiculous slippers, I don't feel the rush here. I won't need much of your time."

"I'm still in my pajamas because it's barely 8 o'clock, Sherlock, and again… I. AM. OFF. Today."

"Yes, I heard you. We're not going to bother…" Sherlock trailed off. "I want to say Tom."

"Yes Tom! Why can't you remember a simple name when you can know the London A to Z off by heart?"

"Because I need space in my drive and your fiancé is very irrelevant to me."

Molly threw him a wounded look. What hurt her most was not that Sherlock didn't care about Tom (she never expected otherwise) No, what hurt was that he didn't care enough about her life to even _try _to remember his name.

"Tom is at work." She raised her hands in surrender. "Fine. You win. Tell me what's wrong." She sat on the sofa.

"Aren't you going to offer me tea or coffee?" He asked taking his coat and scarf off.

"What?"

"Well, when one has people over isn't it customary to offer them a beverage? And since it's the morning, I believe the offering of a _hot_ beverage is to be expected."

Molly shook her head. "Well it's a good thing I didn't invite you over, isn't it?"

"I am here all the same; your acceptance of my presence is a tacit invitation."

"You're unbelievable," she grumbled, getting of the sofa to make him some tea; "maybe I will just spit in it."

"No you won't. And I'll talk while you make tea. It's called multitasking."

"I'll multitask you something alright…" She grumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Anyway, I know what our victim has been strangled with: a rosary. This instrument is very evident if you think to where the body has been found" Sherlock said, pacing the living room back and forth, his arms locked behind his back. "Now the question is, why use a rosary?"

"Maybe it's a message, someone being mad at God or maybe someone thinking he was doing God's work."

Sherlock sighed. "But if that's the case then why change the weapon right in the middle of the murder? If the rosary was such an important part of the puzzle…"

"There are many reasons to that."

"Are you even living here?" Sherlock asked mid-sentence.

"What?" His irritating habit to change the subject in the middle of a conversation was always getting to her.

"Except for the photos on the shelves, the gardening magazine on the coffee table, and the few forensic books… There is nothing in this room that suggests you live here. Why is that?" He asked clasping his hands behind his back.

"What do you mean? Everything here is ours, I live here." She replied, serving him a cup of tea.

"No it's not, everything here is his. It's too clinical, too modern, and too ordinary. You moved in his house and didn't take anything with you, why is that?"

"You never came to my flat. How do you know it's not mine?"

"Really, Molly? Do you think I need to see your flat to know what you like? I've seen your office, your terrible choice of clothes and accessories and especially what you consider art. If you had anything to do with this room there would be purple somewhere, maybe even everywhere! And flowers, God you seem to like everything to be decorated with bloody flowers." He shook his head, making his curls bounce. "No, this is not you, and I wonder why?"

"Maybe I just liked this place so much I thought it was perfect just the way it is?"

Sherlock twisted his mouth in incredulity. "So what's your theory?"

"'bout what?"

"The rosary! Molly, focus!" He shouted, exasperated. He moved towards the shelves, studying the pictures there.

Molly glared at Sherlock's back. She shook her head; she knew better than to antagonize him, because firstly she would never win and secondly she would never hear the end of it. "I have three hypotheses for the rosary. First it was just a weapon of opportunity…. Maybe the victim was going to church; she had her rosary... the killer took it and –"

"No, she was agnostic. Next!" Said Sherlock, turning toward her while holding one of picture frames in his hands.

"Ok well maybe it was taking too much time with the rosary, the killer was struggling. It may have even broken and he reached for something and hit her with it."

Sherlock nodded. "Why do you say he?"

"The force of the blow, it required a great force to cause such damage."

"You're quite smart, Molly Hooper."

She smiled. "Coming from you, this is quite a compliment."

Sherlock smiled. "The best there is, yes. And what is your third theory?"

"I-" Molly shook her head negatively. "You will find it absurd."

"Humour me."

"Two killers, unrelated, but targeting the same person. "

"Why would you say that?" Asked Sherlock, resting his fingertips under his chin, a clear sign he was intrigued.

"Well the strangling marks are here but faded as if the force used for strangling her was different than the force used to hit her." Molly shrugged. "It might be nothing but I still find that strange."

Sherlock walked to her, so close he towered over her. "You have keen instinct Molly Hooper, which is the reason why you're my pathologist."

"I...umm… yeah… Well… you know…. Doesn't take a genius to figure that one out."

"You're rambling again."

"You seem to have this effect on me." She blushed.

Sherlock let his eyes wander behind her and frowned. "Is this the invitation for Johns' and Mary wedding?"

"What?" She asked turning around to look at the countertop. "Yes it is."

"I thought you liked weddings. Aren't you women crazy about these frivolous events?"

"We're not all the same Sherlock, but yes I do like weddings. I got it in the post yesterday and I didn't have time to send it back."

"I'm the best man, you know." Sherlock said with evident pride.

Molly couldn't help but smile at Sherlock's reaction. He was like a child given something so precious. He loved John and wanted to make it perfect for him. However she couldn't help but cringe at the idea of Sherlock giving the Best Man Speech.

"Don't worry for me Molly, I'm doing a tremendous job. I am good at everything, there is no doubt I would be the best for that too."

"You are an amazing man Sherlock and I saw you do thing I didn't think anybody could do but as far as feelings are concerned, I'm not sure you're… you're…ummm"

"What Molly? What don't you think I am? Do you think I can't feel a thing?" He asked with a cold edge in his voice, but she didn't miss the hurt in his eyes.

"No that's not what I mean. I know you can feel, I've seen it! But expressing your feelings might be more-"

Sherlock shook his head. "It doesn't matter what you might think. I'm here for work."

"You're the one who brought up the subject."

"And I am now ending it."

Molly sighed. She was about to reply when she heard the key in the door. Both she and Sherlock turned toward Tom.

"Moll I'm sorry, I shouldn't-" Tom stopped with his keys in hand. "Oh, you have company." Molly didn't miss the slight flicker of anger flashing in his eyes.

"I wasn't expected. I invited myself. Molly has just been kind enough to let me in." Sherlock replied.

"Is there anything Molly wouldn't do for you?"

Molly caught the sarcasm but Sherlock seemed to ponder the question seriously.

"I don't know. She's never refused me anything yet, but this is quite an empirical question."

"I didn't expect an answer."

"Then don't ask the question."

"Do you have mental issues? Are you crazy?"

"I am a high functioning sociopath."

"You're _unhealthy."_

"Tom, stop it!" Molly hissed.

"_**I**_ have to stop it?" He asked with disbelief.

"Yes you! Sherlock is not doing anything wrong and-" Molly sighed, turning toward Sherlock. "Do you still need me for the case?"

"No but the pregnancy-"

"You're pregnant?!" Shouted Tom, dropping his keys.

"Molly pregnant with your child?" Sherlock chuckled. "Now that would be a shame."

"Sherlock…" Molly trailed off. "No Tom I'm not pregnant. The victim was."

Tom grimaced.

"I'm sorry. I know you don't like hearing about my job."

Sherlock shook his head, putting the photo he was holding back on the counter. "It's alright Molly, I will find John. Good day, Tim." Sherlock swirled around and left by the bay window again.

"Why didn't he take the door?"

Molly laughed "That's Sherlock." She sobered when she met Tom's angry face. "I didn't know he was coming."

"Why are you always humouring him?"

"He needed help."

"Oh he needs help; professional help."

"Listen Tom. I love you, but Sherlock is an important part of my life. He needed help with his brainstorming."

"I don't like him and I'm sure he doesn't like me."

"Sherlock doesn't like anyone."

"He likes you."

"He's my friend."

"He's a big part of your life."

"Yes, he is."

Tom phone rang. He looked at his screen. "I have to go, but…"

"But?"

"Why did you take his side?"

"I didn't take his side… Well maybe I did, but he's Sherlock, conflict is in his blood. I know from experience that antagonizing him will only put oil on the fire."

"And for that I should just ignore his comments."

"Yes."

Tom shook his head. "Unbelievable! Will he ever do anything wrong in your eyes?"

"Sherlock does plenty wrong in my eyes believe me. I've wanted to physically hurt him more times than I can count, but in the end-"

"You love him."

"No! In the end he is my friend."

"Is he? This is a very one sided friendship. Tell me what he ever did for you, anything that didn't serve his interest in the end."

Molly remained quiet, what could she say, really? Tom was right.

Tom sighed as his phoned beeped again. "I have to go, or I'll be late."

"Tom, nothing happened."

"I know."

"But-"

"I have to go."

"No, let's talk about it! You can't always make me feel guilty, put the blame on me and then walk away. You do it all the time."

"What is there to talk about? Sherlock Holmes will always come first in your life, even if you try to deny it. There's no point talking about anything until you're ready to be honest with me and with yourself."

Molly sat heavily on the sofa, and growled in frustration. How could things get any worse?


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N: **Hey my friends.

I wanted to take a minute to thank **carri007, Renaissancebooklover108, Brytte Mystere and SammyKatz** for your reviews. You can give yourself a pat in the back my friend as you are the one keeping me going. Thanks to Georgia the best beta ever.

Anyways I hope you will like this chapter.

Steffy2106

**Chapter 5: **

"What are you doing?" Asked, John entering 221B.

"Waiting for you two," said Sherlock not looking up from what he was working on. "This is turning into quite the dilemma."

"The case?" Asked Mary with curiosity.

"No, this table's plan."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Chill out, Sherlock,_ I'm_ the bride to be but you're the one stressing."

"I'm not stressing, Mary! But I do think that perhaps some of the tables are not properly arranged..."

Mary sat beside him and patted his arm. "The marriage is two months away, Sherlock."

Sherlock turned to her. "Yes I know, but… why would you want your cousin Imogene to sit on the table closest to you when she obviously _despises_ the idea of you getting married?"

"Here we go…" John grumbled settling in his chair. "I'm just going to sit there and enjoy being ignored for a while."

"Look at the RSVP. Red pen, upside down stamp, crinkled card and coffee stains. She obviously doesn't care about this wedding." Sherlock turned to John. "You can try to figure out a way to get the priest's DNA, you're a doctor after all. So what do we do about Cousin Imogene?" He asked, concentrating on Mary again and not even bothering to wait for John's answer.

Mary reached for the little name tag. "Welcome to table 9 Imogene, enjoy the loo odours."

Sherlock smiled. "Wise choice."

"Who else hates me or my wedding or my fiancé?" She asked, glaring at the list of names on the table.

"Why do we need the priest's DNA?"

"What?"

John sighed. "Sherlock, focus for a minute… The case alright? We can talk about the wedding later."

"Hey!" Mary exclaimed in fake indignation. "He is right, though." She said with a grimace, bumping Sherlock's shoulder with her own.

"Molly discovered the victim was pregnant, I'm sure the priest was the father. And yes John, before you ask, I know how babies are made and I am sure that the priest and the victim had regular sexual intercourse."

Mary looked down with a small smile on her lips. She was dying to know if Sherlock Holmes was an actual virgin, as John had always presumed he was but nobody had ever had the guts to ask him. Maybe she would do it one day, if she was drunk enough for that sort of conversation.

Sherlock pointed to a few names on the list and let Mary reorganize the tables. "I want to talk about something important."

"Yes?" John said standing up.

Sherlock kneeled by the sofa and pulled something out from under it. "What about the napkins?" he said pointing to four napkins all folded differently.

John rolled his eyes and shot a pleading look at Mary.

"You did that?!"

Sherlock nodded.

"Where did you learn to do that?"

"I'm a man of many skills." Sherlock replied haughtily.

"Sherlock…" She trailed off.

He sighed. "Youtube. I was stuck in the case; I thought maybe thinking about something else would help."

"And did it?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Molly did."

"Molly?" Asked John, cocking his head.

"Yes I went to see her this morning at home."

"You don't go to people houses unannounced, Sherlock."

"I do that to you all the time!"

"Yes, but it's because we're used to you." Said Mary with a small smile.

Sherlock shrugged, bringing the folded napkins on the table. "Molly Hooper didn't seem to mind, her fiancé ion the other hand..."

John and Mary exchanged a look.

"What?" Asked Sherlock, his eyes flickering from one to the other.

"Why don't you two go investigate the priest's sex life while I go over the different napkin folding styles?" She cocked her head to one side and chuckled. "That's a sentence I never thought I would say."

"Yes Sherlock, Lestrade really needs us to solve that case."

Sherlock nodded. "Very well, let's go to the church."

"Lestrade told you to stay away from the priest."

"Lestrade is not as smart as I am. I know what I'm doing John."

"So, Molly huh?" said John, as they settled in the cab.

"Yes, why?"

"Nothing it's just… You never went to her place before, ever."

"I never felt like the need to go to her place before. You were not available; I needed someone to help me think."

"Could you have tried to find someone else? You're mostly the one doing all the work during our brainstorming sessions."

"Maybe it is the case but I still need someone of a good mental capacity to throw me an idea that is not completely absurd every once in a while. Who did you want me to go see, eh? Scotland Yard? I have never seen so many intellectually impaired beings grouped together under one roof. No, if it's not you it has to be Molly."

"Did you go see her only to help you think?"

Sherlock eyes narrowed when they connected with John's. "Why else would I go see her, John?"

John shrugged. "I don't know, you seemed closer that I first thought you were. I mean, she is the one you chose to confide in when you faked your death. That's no small thing."

"Is that what it is, John? You're jealous?" Sherlock shook his head. "I told you that it had to be her."

"What? No, No!" John grimaced with incredulity. "That's the stupidest thing I have ever heard! No, I was wondering if _you_ were jealous."

"Jealous? Of _what_?"

"Tom."

"Tom?"

John sighed. "Are you blocking him or what? Molly's fiancé."

"Why would I be jealous of him?"

"Because he has Molly."

"I want Molly Hooper for her brain and nothing more. What this man wants her for is of no interest to me."

"But you know things won't change between us, right? I might be getting married soon, but you are still my best friend. Mary knows how important you are to me and I'll always be there for you."

"Thank you, John. Where did that confession come from?"

"Nowhere, I just wanted you to know."

"I am aware of this fact. Mary likes me and I am quite fond of her too. She is by far the least irritating of your girlfriends and she is the first I view as being good enough for you." Sherlock tapped his forefinger to his chin. "Thinking about it, she's the first of your numerous conquests that I didn't imagine killing."

"That's comforting." John mumbled as the cab stopped. "What are you going to do?" He added, trailing after Sherlock.

"I feel the need to confess myself." Sherlock said with a small smile, as if he were making a joke that John didn't understand.

John looked around the church before looking back at Sherlock. "Uh…"

"What is it John?"

"I thought churches were supposed to repel evil and yet here you are standing, healthy and well."

"Very funny, John." Sherlock shook his head. "I will see you in a little while."

"What do you want me to do in the meanwhile?"

"What you do the best." Sherlock replied, walking into the confessional without another word.

Sherlock was still pondering the discussion he had with John in the cab when he heard the little sliding door of the confessional open.

"Hello my child, how long at is been since your last confession?"

Sherlock recognized the priest's voice and leaned back with a small smile, making sure the priest couldn't see him.

"Quite a while."

"What's on your mind?"

"There is a woman…" Sherlock grinned as he figured out how to play the priest.

"Go on."

"And she is all wrong for me. I'm not supposed to want her and yet it's like I can't stop myself. She's a weakness, I worked so hard for so long and I thought I was okay, that I would never face this temptation in life but it was until I met her. I knew that if I let go and obey this drive there would be hell to pay and yet I did it. It made me weak and strong at the same time, every time I said it would be the last, but I was going back to her, like a drug addict to his fix." By this time Sherlock wasn't smiling anymore. Actually, he wasn't sure he liked the weird feeling that was settling in the pit of the stomach. Something he'd never felt before…. a sort of _recognition, _as if he were telling the truth. Which was absurd.

"Was she married?" Asked the priest, and Sherlock didn't miss how broken his voice sounded. He was thinking about Ms. Potter, no doubt about that, which confirmed Sherlock's suspicion. The priest was in love.

"No she wasn't. What I don't understand though is if you loved her so much, then why aren't you helping us to catch her killer? She was pregnant, did you know that?"

The priest remained silent for so long that Sherlock almost thought he was gone.

"You're lying" he finally murmured.

"No I am not. I don't believe in your global delusion of a benevolent God guiding us, but I wouldn't go as far as to lie in a place considered as sacred. No, actually I might, I probably would, but it's not the case here. I can show you the autopsy report, she was ten weeks pregnant."

When the priest remained silent, Sherlock decided to continue. Silence was as good as he was going to get. At least the priest hadn't left.

"Don't worry, there's no way for the police to be smart enough to figure this one out, and there is even less likelihood for them to get enough evidence to back up a warrant unless they suddenly gain 50 more IQ points and search your past to see how you were linked with Ms. Potter… but there is as much chance of that happening than there is of your god actually existing. Because you've known her for many years, didn't you? Even before you decided to become a priest, she had always been dear to you but far out of your reach. I believe your family was working for hers and you were always longing but she never even saw you."

"No, she saw me, but her family didn't approve, and when the time came to make a choice between them and I…" He sighed.

Sherlock hated the fact he couldn't see him. Sherlock used all his senses to deduce people and now he only had to believe the tone and words, nothing accurate enough for him. "She chose them." Sherlock deduced.

"Yes…"

"Why don't you tell the truth? The police won't find you, are you scared to lose your place? Isn't her life at least worth that much? I believe she came that night to tell you about the baby. Doesn't it mean something to you?"

"I wish it were that easy. There is much more at stake here than just my place. I would hang up my robe and walk away in a heartbeat if it meant avenging Lindsey's murder. He is the only thing that matters, it is her, it was always her. Nothing else matters now, but I can't just – It's too dangerous. We can't talk here. There are ears everywhere."

"Fine. Where do you want to meet?"

"Hyde Park. 9:30 pm, beside the east gate. I'll bring you some things."

"Perfect."

"I loved her, you know."

Sherlock moved to face the priest through the little opening. "No, I don't know. But if you come through and help me catch her killer, maybe it will matter."

That night Sherlock and John were about to take a cab to Hyde park when John's phone started to ring.

"It's Lestrade." He said, frowning.

"You didn't tell him about our meeting did you? I need to see if it is anything relevant first."

John shook his head. "Of course I didn't, who do you think I am?!"

Sherlock opened his mouth.

John shook his head. "No, don't answer that." He answered his phone. "Lestrade, what can I do for you?" John nodded, "umm I see. Okay…. Thanks. Yes, first thing in the morning."

"What did he say?"

"There is no point on going to our meeting now."

"Why is that?" Asked Sherlock, burying his hands in the pockets of his coat.

"Because our priest has been found dead, hanged in his room."


	6. Chapter 6

**A.N: **Hello my dear friends!

Chapter 6 here. A special thank you to **Carri007, mythlover20, Ray, DME0414, CloudCuckooLandHasAQueen **and** Renaissancebooklover108** for reviewing. You really made it worthwhile thank you so much. A big thank t Georgia too who is the best beta

Again I don't own Sherlock or Benedict, I just wish I did.

Don't forget to review and let me know what you think.

Steffy2106

**Chapter 6: **

Sherlock entered the room where the priest was still hanging. He toured it before going to stand beside Lestrade.

"Can we take the body down?"

Sherlock gave him a sharp nod. "It's a murder."

"It took you all of one minute to deduce that, even though everything is pointing to a suicide?" Asked Lestrade, taken aback.

"Yes, I know. Is it a new record?"

"He even left a letter." Lestrade added, extending a piece of paper in an evidence bag.

Sherlock looked down and read it.

_I'm sorry, I know this selfish act will take me to hell but I was condemned anyway as I committed the most unforgivable crime. I have killed someone. I killed Ms. Potter __because__ she was pregnant with my child and threatened to reveal our __relationship to__ the world, which would have destroyed everything I have been working for. I couldn't live with the guilt of having taken a life._

Sherlock looked up from the note, let his eyes narrowed at a sermon he had written on his desk, then looked up to a note the priest had written on his board.

"Would you call a person you loved by their surname? It's his handwriting, but there is a tremor in the lettering that is not anywhere else. I believe he was threatened into writing it."

"Maybe there was a tremor because he was bloody _emotional_! The man was about to end his life."

Sherlock sighed. "What about the knot?"

"The knot?"

"Yes." Sherlock pointed to the knot on the rope. "This knot was clearly done by the right handed person and our priest was left handed. What do you have to say about that?"

Lestrade looked up and met the eyes of an older man who had appeared in the doorframe.

"What I'm saying is that we'll discuss this tomorrow. I said I'll give you five minutes on the crime scene, not a minute more."

Sherlock nodded, knowing it was not really Lestrade talking but the angry, uniformed man who had just entered the room. "Tomorrow at the morgue?"

Lestrade nodded before concentrating on the policeman.

"What was that about?" asked John as soon as they exited the church grounds and hailed a cab.

"That, John, was the most efficient way to stop him from talking. The priest told me in the confessional that there were ears everywhere; I guess he was proven right." Sherlock smiled. "I have to admit this makes the case all much more intriguing now".

"Are you glad that this man is dead?"

"What? No! Of course not. But he _is_ dead, so why not rejoice and notice that, on the positive side, the priest's death makes this case so much more interesting?"

John sighed and shook his head. "Well, If we're not going to do anything more tonight then I'd better go home to Mary. "

"Yes, I will think it through…See you in the morning, don't be late."

"Please excuse me for being late but some people have a problem with waking up." Sherlock said, storming into the morgue.

"I told you at least five times that there was an accident. What was I supposed to do?"

"Leave early."

John rolled his eyes, turning to Molly and Lestrade. "I'm sorry if being twelve minutes late caused you any inconvenience."

"It's alright," said Molly taking off her gloves and grabbing the chart on the table. "I was just saying to Greg here that there's not much more I think I'll be able to do."

"What do you mean by there is not much you can do?! This man was murdered."

Molly threw a knowing look to Lestrade as if they had been discussing it before Sherlock's arrival.

"That's the thing Sherlock, everything is falling so perfectly into place that unless you can give me hard evidence right now on a murder I can't keep this case open," said Lestrade regretfully.

"But _**I**_ tell you it's murder, isn't that evidence enough?"

"Yeah for me it's enough but I told you this case would be polemical. The man you saw on the crime scene yesterday is the Deputy Commissioner Murray. That man has been breathing down our necks so hard we might have to close the case."

"So what's the official conclusion?" Sherlock asked, face smooth but anger glinting in his eyes.

"We figured that he knew her from before, he just gave in to temptation, got her pregnant and killed her to keep his secret. The guilt was just too much for him to bear and he killed himself… There were pictures of them in his desk as teenagers."

"How convenient, he was committing the dirtiest sin and yet he had left these pictures for the world to find."

Lestrade shrugged. "You know it's not my call."

Sherlock turned to Molly." I guessed the only thing you did was the tox-screen and the DNA match of the foetus. "

"I didn't, the on call pathologist did, but yes. Nothing unusual was found in his blood, and his DNA matches the foetus's. I was just looking over the file after Lestrade told me about your suspicion, but I can't find anything that will allow me to do an autopsy or more tests."

"Don't you believe me?" Sherlock asked, and she didn't miss the wounded undertone in his voice.

"I do Sherlock, of course I do, but the hospital is already looking at me closely since you…. resurrected. It's my signature at the bottom of your death certificate, you know. I kept my job because my reasons were noble but now they can't help but wonder if I did _that_ for you, then what else I did I do?" She sighed. "Plus St Bart's budget has been reduced. I have nothing at all to justify doing anything more with the body."

Sherlock sighed and threw his hands up in exasperation. "So that's it? We'll just let a double murderer go free because the church decided it was best to close the case?"

"We can't always win, Sherlock," said John soothingly when he noticed his friend's level of agitation.

"I never lose, John. I. ." Sherlock growled, jaw locked.

"I'll tell you what; I'll make you a copy of the file with everything in it, and if you bring me hard evidence then I'll take them to the Deputy Commissioner myself. Is that alright?"

"I suppose" Sherlock trailed off, turning to Molly and looking at her with the full force of his puppy eyes.

She pursed her lips, wanting to slap him and kiss him at the same time. He didn't need to talk for her to know what he wanted. She could hear him clearly in her head his eyes seemed to say '_I always trusted you; I trusted you with my life, now__ you need to __trust me'_. She sighed. "I'll see what I can do."

Sherlock grinned. "That's all I'm asking for. So let's go get this file now. John and I need to see all the things that you forgot or considered irrelevant. We'll we need to correct all your mistakes."

Lestrade sighed and checked his phone. "I often forget why I put up with you."

"Because I'm brilliant and you know it."

"That must be it. You two will be waiting for me in the car, they don't need to know I'm giving you the file. If anybody found out I gave you that file, my ass will feel it."

"You have my words, nothing will be said," Said John reassuringly when Sherlock left the room without another word.

Lestrade turned to Molly. "You let me know if you find anything doing what you're not supposed to, yeah?"

"Yes let us know too please." John added.

Molly chuckled and nodded. "We're always doing thing we're not supposed to when Sherlock is involved."

Both John and Lestrade snorted in agreement before following Sherlock out.

Molly spent the day doing post mortem of the bodies that were actually scheduled but she couldn't get that priest's body out of her mind, she was trying to enumerate all the tests she could do on the body to bring out any evidence.

When Molly was done with her last autopsy, it was just after 5pm and she was dead on her feet. She dragged herself to her office and decided to give herself a 15 minutes break after clocking out to make sure everybody would be gone to start working on the priest body.

She reached for her cellphone and winced as she pressed speed dial for Tom.

_Hey, you on your way? Why don't you get some Chinese food on the way home? We can have a Netflix movie night what do you think? The new Star Trek movie is available now and I know much you loved it_.

Molly smiled. She was not a Star Trek fan but she wanted to see it for the guy who played Khan. She would never admit it to anyone but he was the only reason she went to see it 4 times at the theater. Sherlock had still been gone then and this man reminded her so much of him… How stupid as it was when she saw him on the big screen it had eased her pain ever so slightly.

"Yeah, about that, I was about to go home but they brought us two bodies and the on-called pathologist is sick." She said trying to sound as casual as possible. "Hello?" She tried when there was only silence on the other side of the line.

"Yeah… I'm here. Can't this wait until tomorrow?"

Molly shook her head before realising he couldn't see her. "No I'm sorry."

Tom sighed. "Well it's work right?"

"But it seems like a fun night! Let's set it up for tomorrow." She added cheerily, maybe even too cheerily, come to think of it. Nobody should get so excited about take-out and Star Trek.

"Sure, let's do that. I'll see you later."

"I love you."

"Yeah."

Molly hung up and looked at her phone with tears in her eyes. It was the first time since she had been with Tom that she'd bluntly and willingly lied to him, and it was also the first time that he didn't answer with "I love you too".

Molly put her phone in her lab coat before going back into the morgue.

Her phone beeped for a text message and she reached for it eagerly, hoping it was a "I love you too" from Tom.

_So, find anything interesting? SH_

She rolled her eyes as the disappointment sunk in. Leave it to Sherlock Holmes to be only interested in a corpse.

_Yes I do. MH_

_What is it? SH_

_I find Greek Mythology interesting… positively fascinating. MH_

_This is no time for games! SH _

Molly shook her head. She could almost feel Sherlock's frustration; she decided to stop playing with him. _Just finished my official shift, I'm about to start. MH_

_Your shift ended 30 minutes ago… What took you so long? SH _

"Go screw yourself." She whispered to the screen but decided to ignore the last text and put the phone back in her pocket.

Molly did all the tests? she could think of without actually opening up the body, which was the only thing she couldn't do. No fibres on his body, no epithelial cells under his nails, no evident sign of struggle or injection anywhere.

"If they killed you, how did they manage to hang you without you fighting back?" She murmured, looking down at the rope mark on his neck. She frowned. Her only hypothesis was that they had put him to sleep using chloroform, but she wouldn't be able to prove that without fibres in his nose and he had nothing.

After more than two hours on the body Molly had found nothing at all. She sighed, deciding to use the UV light on the body. She knew it was a long shot and probably a complete waste of time, but at least she would be able to lookSherlock in the eyes and tell him she'd tried everything.

She put the glasses on, turning off the light. She started from the toes going up the body centimeters by centimeters. She frowned, reaching the inside of his left thigh. She moved his leg a bit and brought the lamp closer. It was a strange pattern, an invisible tattoo, maybe with fluorescent ink. Why would a priest have this kind of tattoo?

Molly reached back to grab her special camera, knowing that Sherlock would know what this symbol was but instead of grabbing a Camera she grabbed a hand. She gasped swirling around.

"You shouldn't have done that," she heard a voice say before she felt a sharp pain and everything went black.


	7. Chapter 7

**A.N: ****Hey guys!**

Wow this story made it to 90 followers thank you so much and even if the number of reviews is not that great I would like to thank you for sticking with me. A special shout out goesto** Kittycatfight, DD, StellaRose, Guest, Carri007, mythlover20, superster, Renaissancebooklover108 and Arvingwen **for taking the time to leave me a review. Believe it it's highly appreciated and you are the one keeping me inspired so, from the bottom of my heart, Thank you.

A big thank you also to the most efficient beta in the world. Georgia, thank you for your great work.

And again, in case you forgot I don't own Sherlock.

Anyways I hope you'll enjoy this chapter! Leave me a little review I adore reading you!

Steffy2106

**Chapter 7:**

"Come on Molly, wake up." Molly heard Sherlock's deep voice. She sighed, inhaling his deep scent. It had been months since she had this dream, waking up in Sherlock's arm. Was it a relapse?

Molly felt Sherlock's arms tighten around her, but as she gained consciousness the warm, fuzzy feeling began to fade and she realized that she had a pounding headache… It wasn't the kind of beautiful dream she usually had.

"She moved, John! Molly, open your eyes, come on now we need to move."

She frowned again. _John?_ She opened her eyes and met Sherlock's worried ones. "Hi." She croaked, realizing she was lying on the floor, _in Sherlock's arms_ – which was probably why his XS for men cologne was so strong in her nostrils.

She saw pure relief flash on Sherlock's face. "Hi," he smiled, before looking up at John. "She's awake."

John came closer and looked down to Molly. "We need to take you to the ER okay? You might have a concussion."

Molly tried to nod but she winced instead. She realised that Sherlock's hand was resting on her forehead.

"What happened?" She asked.

"That was my question," said Sherlock, lifting her from the floor and starting to follow John out of the morgue.

The headache was pounding and she closed her eyes.

"No, no Molly, look at me. Keep your eyes on me." Sherlock said, nudging her. "I know how much you like staring at me, Molly Hooper. Now is your chance."

She snorted but concentrated on his eyes, they were not really but actually… "Glasz" she whispered as they entered the ER.

"Excuse me?"

She shook her head and winced again.

After Sherlock and John left Molly with the doctor, they decided to go back to the morgue.

Sherlock looked at the small puddle of blood on the floor that was Molly's. He felt a furor and desire of revenge that took his breath away. He had never wanted to kill anyone more than he wanted to kill the person who had hurt Molly.

"Did you call Lestrade?" Sherlock asked, still looking at the blood.

"Yeah, he's on his way. The body's gone."

Sherlock nodded.

"Sherlock, are you okay?"

"Her attacker was tall - a man, obviously. After he hit her, she fell against the autopsy table which is how she hurt herself. He wanted to stop her from discovering anything on the body." Sherlock turned to John, "let's just hope she discovered what he didn't want her to."

"Aren't we waiting for Lestrade?"

"What for, John? There is nothing to be found here. I need to talk to Molly."

"Leave her alone tonight, Sherlock. She's been through a lot."

"I'll let her tell me that," said Sherlock, walking back towards the ER.

As Sherlock approached the room the doctor exited.

"May I see her?" Asked Sherlock.

"How is she doing?" John asked, throwing a reproachful look at Sherlock.

"Yes, that too." Sherlock nodded.

John sighed.

"She will be fine. She's suffering from a minor concussion and she needed stiches for a split arch of the eyebrow. She just needs to rest for a few days."

"But can I see her?" Sherlock insisted.

"If she feels good enough than I don't see why-"

"She's always up for seeing me." Sherlock replied, cutting him off.

When he walked in Molly was sitting up in the bed, looking out the window even though there was nothing to see on this dark night.

"How are you feeling?"

Molly turned, surprised to see Sherlock there. She hadn't thought he cared enough. "I'll be fine; I'll have a scar, though," she said pointing to her bandaged forehead. "There goes my model career." She added as a joke, but deep down this scar did bother her a little. Molly wasn't vain. She knew she was too far from being pretty to bother about being vain, but even so, she wasn't thrilled at the idea of a visible scar.

Sherlock shrugged with a small smile. "Who knows…perfection is overrated. I tend to think this scar will add character and make you even more charming, Molly Hooper."

Molly blushed slightly, she knew Sherlock was just trying to be nice but it touched her nonetheless. "Is there anything you need, Sherlock?"

"I want to know what happened." He stated, coming to stand closer to the bed.

Molly nodded. "Of course, the case first," she said - and she wasn't bitter because she knew she shouldn't have expected anything else. "I don't know much, Sherlock. Most of the tests I tried on the body were inconclusive until I took the ultra violet light and then…" Molly frowned. "There was something on his leg, a symbol. I reached behind me, but there was someone there and then everything went black."

"What was the symbol? Did you get a look at the person who hit you?"

"It was too fast, I… I'm not sure."

"Replay it Molly. Go to your mind palace."

Molly snorted. "I don't have a mind palace, Sherlock, I'm not you."

Sherlock sat on the side of the bed, surprising Molly by his closeness.

"You do have a mind palace Molly, you're brilliant! You just need to access it."

"I don't know how, Sher-" She stopped dead when Sherlock leaned and grabbed her face in his long, powerful and soft hands.

"But I do." Sherlock whispered, locking eyes with her.

Molly's breath hitched in her throat. She couldn't believe the effect that only his hands had on her; nothing Tom ever did affected her so completely. "What do I do?" She asked, voice shivering with emotion.

"Close your eyes." After she did so, Sherlock continued, still keeping his hands on her face. "Think of a place where you feel safe," he continued, his voice hypnotic.

He was so close she could feel his warm breath to her face.

"A place where you feel you belong… Do you have it?"

Molly barely nodded.

"Open your eyes Molly, not the real ones, but the one's in your mind."

Molly opened her eyes in her mind and found herself standing in the middle of Sherlock's living room. How could Sherlock's flat be her safe place?

"Look around Molly… Find the body." Sherlock had materialized in her head and was now sitting in his chair.

"The body?"

"Yes it's here, in this room find it…. Find it Molly."

Molly looked around, and found the body lying on Sherlock's kitchen table. She walked slowly toward it.

Sherlock appeared behind her. "Find it Molly, find what you were not supposed to find."

Molly saw the tattoo on the thigh except that this time the tattoo was not invisible but in blood red ink.

"There is a tattoo on his body."

"What is it?"

Molly shook her head. "I never saw it anything like it before… it's a symbol."

"Molly, if you open your eyes could you draw it for me?"

Molly looked at the tattoo silently for a few minutes, trying to make sure she would remember. She knew she wouldn't be able to go back there, not with the pounding headache. The lucid part of her brain was telling her to stop straining with the concussion she had.

She let the image fade in her mind and opened her eyes. Sherlock was so close their noses were almost touching.

"Do you have it?"

Molly nodded again.

Sherlock smiled brightly, letting go of her face and grabbing a pad and a pen.

"What is it?" He asked as Molly started to sketch.

"Wait, I'm not done."

"No, I mean your mind palace. What is the place that makes you feel safe?"

Molly shook her head and blushed slightly, not looking up from her sketch. "I can't tell you that Sherlock, it's private."

"Very well… It is _your_ mind palace after all."

"Here," said Molly, extending the notepad to him.

Sherlock frowned looking, at the notepad. "Are you sure this is the symbol?"

"Yes why?"

"Because I don't know it."

"Oh right, so you're saying I have to be wrong because there is no way you don't know it?"

"Obviously."

"You're such a cock sometimes, Sherlock Holmes." She said wincing at the now throbbing pain.

Sherlock looked at her, completely taken aback, for what felt like ten minutes, before suddenly bursting into a fit of laughter. "Molly Hooper! I never thought I would see the day when you would sass me."

"Well stick around and you might see more." She grumbled.

Sherlock smiled broadly. "I believe I might enjoy this side of you."

Molly smiled back. She liked it when Sherlock had a good hearted laugh like that, and to be honest she couldn't remember the last time he'd chuckled like that. Had he even laughed like that with her before?

Sherlock ripped out the page and folded it carefully. "You did a great job, Molly Hooper. Now you rest, it's my turn to impress." He leaned in and quickly kissed her forehead. "I shall see you soon." He said quickly, before exiting the room.

Molly looked at the door wide eyed for a long moment after Sherlock left. He had kissed her! It might have been only on the forehead, but it was contact, it was intimacy so _UnSherlock_ like and yet she would do it all over again for the feeling of his lips on her skin.


	8. Chapter 8

**A.N: **Hey guys!

This story just went over the 100 followers! Thank you so much for the support I am so glad you are enjoying it. Of course a special thank you to the ones who took the time to review, you have a special spot in my heart. Also a big hug for Georgia: "Beta-Extraordinaire".

I still don't own Sherlock or its characters.

A bit of Sherlolly goodness for you. Leave a review if you feel like it :)

Steffy2106

**Chapter 8: **

"Wow, Mrs. Hudson was right – you're losing it," said John, entering 221B and looking around the room. There were so many copies of the weird symbol on the walls, he couldn't even see the wallpaper. "How many times did you draw it?"

"I am not losing it John, I am focusing." Sherlock replied without moving his head, keeping his eyes trained on the wall.

John walked forward to stand into Sherlock's line of vision. "Sherlock…"

Sherlock growled with frustration, meeting John's eyes. "The symbol is the key, John, I know it. I just know it."

"The case has been closed, Sherlock."

"How did they explain the body, John? The body vanished."

"Lestrade said some extremist Catholic group stole the body as they thought he didn't deserve a proper burial."

"That's ludicrous John; you don't buy that, do you?"

"No, but there's nothing we can do." John frowned, seeing the dark circles under Sherlock's eyes. "How long has it been since you slept, Sherlock?"

Sherlock pondered upon that. "What day is it?"

"Friday."

"Forty eight hours," he replied. "Is Molly home, by the way?"

"Molly? Sherlock, what week do you think we're in?" asked John, sitting on the coffee table and looking extremely worried. "It's been two weeks, Sherlock."

"Oh? Ummm then it might have been 6 days since I slept."

John nodded. "Tea?"

Sherlock seemed surprised by the change of subject, but accepted all the same.

"You need to sleep, Sherlock." John said from the kitchen.

"No, I'm fine."

"No. You're not fine. I know the effect of sleep deprivation on people, Sherlock. I'm an army doctor remember?"

"I know myself John, I am just fine."

John shook his head. "You are always so perceptive about anyone but yourself." He sighed. "Just drink up."

Sherlock drunk the tea silently, still staring at the symbol on the wall. He frowned as the symbol started to grow blurry. "John?" His voice was slow and heavy. Sherlock turned to John, but there seemed to be more than just one John Watson standing there in the living room. Dazed as he was, the realisation hit him instantly. "You drugged me." He slurred, trying his hardest to keep his eyes open.

"You need to sleep Sherlock, and you're going to sleep by hook or by crook."

Sherlock woke up with the bright light of the sun coming in from his bedroom window. He turned his head and growled when he saw his alarm clock; it was 2:30pm. What had John given him? He had slept for over 19 hours - more than he usually did in a week!

"John!" He shouted from his room. He heard whispers coming from the lounge. "John!" He shouted even louder.

"Come here, you numpty!" John shouted back from the living room. "You can walk can't you?"

"What did you do to me?!" asked Sherlock, walking into the room. "And what did you do to my living room?" He added seeing the walls bared of all his drawings. "You know, John, it is not a good idea to anger a sociopath."

"Oh just shut it! I gave you _one_ sleeping pill Sherlock, just enough to make you sleep for a few hours… Not my fault if you were so sleep deprived that you slept the entire night! And really, this room looked more like a crazy person's cell. I'm your best friend, it's my duty to not let you get away with crap - and you, my friend, had a bucket full."

"John, you had no right to-"

"Do you want me to call Mycroft?" John challenged, folding his arms across his chest. "Because you know I will if I have to, and I don't think you want that."

Sherlock sighed with frustration and fell heavily in his chair.

"That's what I thought." John put a cup of tea on the table beside Sherlock before going to sit in his own opposite. "You really slipped there."

"I didn't slip John, I was concentrating." Sherlock sniffed the tea and narrowed his eyes at John.

"It's just tea Sherlock, drug free I promise. I need you tonight."

"You need me?"

"Have you forgotten the party? The bachelor/bachelorette party?"

Sherlock frowned. "I thought it was the best man's prerogative to organize such a party. Based on this book-" he said, pointing to the _The Best Man's Guide Book_ on the mantelpiece, "This party should take place within a week before the wedding. I am your best man and had no involvement in this party."

"This is not the traditional bachelor party Sherlock, that one will be your duty – god help us with that. But this isn't the same, it's Mary's friends and some of my Med School friends organizing it. It's a sort of mingle."

Sherlock nodded, taking a sip of tea. "I'm not coming."

"What? Why? Are you mad because of what I did?"

"I am mad, yes, but that isn't the reason. John, you know how much I hate parties. It's only a way for banal and pathetic people to pretend they are happy, to forget their pathetic life for a few hours in a drunken stupor. Really, John, how could this party ever be productive or of any interest for me?"

"It doesn't have to be productive or interesting for you, Sherlock. You are not going there for _**you**_, you are going there for _**me**_. You're my best friend and my best man. I want you there. I need you there."

Sherlock looked at John silently as a weird feeling settled in his stomach. _Sentiment_… It was still so recent to him, a foreign, alien experience that was still hard for him to process. The problem with sentiment was that it wasn't rational; and Sherlock was nothing if not rational.

"Mary excluded, you'll be the most important person there. You're the number 3 of the wedding and the number 2 in my life so please Sherlock, just forget about this case, just for tonight and come to the party… Pretend to enjoy yourself, for me…Please?"

Sherlock nodded, still looking down at his cup. There wasn't much he wouldn't do for John. After all, he _had_ been ready to die for him. "I'll come; maybe taking a step back from this case will help me gain some perspective."

John nodded standing up. "Thank you Sherlock, be there by 7."

"I'll be ready."

**SHSHSHSHSHSHHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHSHSSHHSSHHS**

By the time Sherlock made it to the pub, the party was already going full swing: loud music and lots of people. Sherlock had to fight his urge to wince as he noticed John's eyes on him.

He looked down at John and smiled.

Mary saw through his pretence and mouthed a 'thank you'.

Sherlock actually didn't hate the night as much as he thought he would. Observing people was quite fascinating and quite enlightening, especially as human behaviour in the context of a party wasn't something that was familiar to Sherlock.

"What are you thinking about so intently?" asked Mary, coming to stand beside Sherlock. "Thanks for coming by the way. I know it's not your scene but it meant a lot to John and to me."

Sherlock looked down at her and grabbed the glass she'd extended toward him. "There isn't much I wouldn't do for you two." He smiled. "I'm thinking about human interactions; a vast majority of the people here seem to be looking for a mate."

"It's a bachelor/Bachelorette party Sherlock, people tend to look for someone to be with when a wedding is looming around the corner."

"I don't understand why…It seems like an enormous waste of time."

"Is it though?" Mary shrugged. "I don't think so. We all need someone to love who loves us back, it's human nature."

"It's not in mine."

Mary threw him a quick look and smiled. "If you say so."

"And please ask you friend to stop singing. It's so horrendous I think my ears will start to bleed."

"Come on Sherlock - it's karaoke! It's fun! You should try it," said Mary, elbowing him playfully.

"Absolutely not. I am neither in a mood to humiliate myself nor looking for some stupid sense of recognition from this crowd so no thank you."

"Now let's give a big round of applause for Molly who's going to sing '_The trouble with love is!'" _said the karaoke animator.

"Molly Hooper." Sherlock whispered as Molly got on the stage vacillating a little. He frowned; Molly was mousy and shy, extremely far from an attention seeker. This was out of character. "She's drunk." He deduced, talking to himself.

Mary nodded. "Yeah she is."

"Where is that fiancé of hers? Jim?" Sherlock scanned the room, trying to locate him. "He shouldn't let her embarrass herself like that, this isn't right."

"Tom," corrected Mary. "And he's not here."

"Didn't you invite him? I thought it was customary to invite people in couples."

"We did invite him, but Molly said he had to work."

Sherlock sighed. "Somebody needs to get her home. This version of Molly Hooper clearly has her perception impaired and based on statistic, a woman with perception impaired is fifty-two percent more likely to get hurt."

"I'll ask John to take her home."

Sherlock straightened his shirt. "No I'll do it, you two are the guests of honour and it's my duty as best man to accommodate you both."

"If that's your reason…" Mary trailed off.

"What other reason can I have?" Sherlock shook his head. If he was completely honest he didn't trust people around Molly. He cared about her. She was his friend and he wanted her to be safe. There was nothing wrong with that.

Mary shook her head as if Sherlock was missing something - which aggravated him even more - but the song was now finished and Sherlock didn't have time to waste with pointless explanation.

Sherlock reached the stage as Molly was coming down and he caught her when she missed a step.

"Sherlock!" She squeaked, grabbing arms. "You saved me from embarrassment." She chuckled.

Sherlock steadied her; she was much more intoxicated than he thought she was. "I think it is too late for that, you embarrassed yourself plenty on stage but I will always be here to catch you when you fall." He replied which surprised himself. What surprised him even more was that he meant it.

"Oh, Ashley Simpson is going to be jealous." She giggled.

"I don't know this Ashely Simpson. Why would she be jealous?"

Molly giggled again.

Sherlock sighed, wrapping his arm tightly around her waist. "Come on, it's time to get home."

Molly nodded. At least she was still lucid enough not to argue with him.

Sherlock grabbed their coats and hailed a cab whilst making sure she stayed in a vertical position. This was also a new experience for him, Sherlock had never been the kind to worry or care about people.

Sherlock gave Molly's address before leaning back. "Why did you drink so much?"

Molly sighed closing her eyes. "Why not?"

"I don't understand."

"Nobody asked you to." She turned her head to the side and looked at him. "Oh come on, Sherlock, it was a party I wanted to have a little fun. No harm done."

"I guess." He replied, not really satisfied with her answer but knowing she wouldn't share more on the subject.

The taxi was lulling them into a drowsy state and it took only minutes for Molly's head to rest against Sherlock's shoulder.

"It's you." She said with in a sleepy voice.

"It's me what?" He asked turning his head to look down at her.

"My mind palace, the place I feel safe. It's with you."

Sherlock looked at her with surprise, but she didn't move. She was probably already asleep. He had no idea how to process what she just said. Sherlock was someone's safe place… as smart as he was, he'd never would have thought that possible.

He examined her as she slept on his shoulder, her mouth opened in a slight O, her little upturned nose, her long eyelashes... He shook his head and looked out of the taxi window as he felt a wave of tenderness and protectionism that both baffled and choked him.

Sherlock did have feelings, no matter how hard he worked to bury them, but his feelings were limited to basics. He cared, he feared, he even loved in a way, but he'd never before felt the kind of tenderness he was feeling at this instant…Maybe he did drink a little more than he should have. Alcohol had the irritating effect of weakening mental barriers and Sherlock realized that he might have overestimated the strength of his mind walls. He also realized that Molly might be one of his pressure points and that was not something he particularly liked.

"We're here," said the driver, bringing Sherlock back to reality.

"Could you open the door for me? My friend is quite deeply asleep." Sherlock carried Molly bridal style to the door. He looked down at her just after he rang the bell and smiled, she didn't even stir. That was something he didn't know about Molly: she was a heavy sleeper

"Sherlock," said Tom opening the door. Sherlock didn't miss the cold edge in his voice but decided to ignore it. "What happened to her?"

"She drank a little too much… May I?" Sherlock asked.

Tom moved from his spot to the door and gestured Sherlock in before directing him to the bedroom.

Sherlock laid Molly delicately on the bed, removed her shoes and laid a blanket on her.

Tom was leaning on the door frame, arms crossed, lips pursed in reproachfully. "Okay, I can take it from here. Let me show you the door."

Sherlock smiled at Tom. Now the masks were coming down, it was time to play.

"Why did you make her lie for you?" asked Sherlock, stopping in the middle of the living room.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"The DVD on pause, the beer on the table. You weren't working, were you?"

"You tell me, you're the genius after all."

"Ah I see. You didn't come because you didn't want to see me, didn't you? Do you feel threatened by me?"

"Threatened? No, but you're destroying Molly and you don't even see it."

"Molly is my friend, I care for her."

"If that's the case, leave her be. She deserves to be happy and being around you is making her miserable and she doesn't even know it."

"When are you going to tell her about your move?"

"What?"

Sherlock rested his hands under his chin and started to pace back and forth. "You had a job offer, in Cambridge I believe. When are you planning to mention it to your fiancée? The sooner the better, I believe, unless you're scared she'll choose London over Cambridge."

Tom's eyes flashed with anger. "You mean that she'll choose you over me."

"That's not what I said."

"It doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to interpret what you said."

"And here I was thinking you were quite thick."

"You know what else doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to understand?"

"No, but I'm pretty sure you're going to enlighten me." Sherlock answered with a mocking smile. He was enjoying this; Tom was neither knowledgeable nor intelligent enough to confront Sherlock.

"You are knowingly messing with Molly's head and you're not doing it out of the goodness of your heart or because you really care. No, the great Sherlock Holmes is doing it because he would hate to lose one of his assets, one of his toys…one of his pawns."

Sherlock laughed. "I find your deductions quite amusing, Tim, I have to give you that. I never heard so many stupid things in one conversation. It was even better than with Anderson." Sherlock sighed. "You have no idea what Molly means to me or what London and her job mean to her. To be fair I don't know why she is bothering with a man like you. You are obviously an-"

"Tom?" They heard Molly call from the bedroom.

"I'm coming!" Tom shouted back, keeping his eyes on Sherlock. "But right now, I'm the one she's calling. Close the door as you leave."

Sherlock smiled. "Of course. But believe it or not, Molly Hooper is my friend and if you don't tell her about Cambridge then I will…be sure about that." Sherlock twirled around and exited the house.


	9. Chapter 9

**A.N: **Hello my fellow Sherlockians or Cumbercollective.

I just letting you now that I will be using quotes and events from Season 3 in different contexts in my story. I am not trying to steal anything from the fantastic Moffat/Gatiss alliance; I am just trying to make my story ring 'true' and in characters.

Love you all

**Steffy2106**

**Chapter 9:**

Molly was in the middle of an autopsy when Tom walked into the morgue.

"Hi," he said, standing by the door. She had to give it to him - he was trying very hard not to show her how much the body was affecting him.

Molly put her scalpel down. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah I just….I just thought we could get lunch together. Maybe in your office?" He added, showing her the plastic bag he was holding.

"Sure go ahead, I'll join you in a minute." Molly was not the kind to leave her work half-finished and under normal circumstances she would have refused, but Tom was slipping away. He had been on edge for the past 4 days, ever since she had come back from John and Mary's party. She wasn't sure what had happened, exactly. He'd told her he was fine, but she always knew better. She hoped that he had come to the morgue to talk. Good or bad, she had to know what was going on.

"So what is it?" She asked as soon as she walked into the room. She was in no mood to play around - if Tom wanted to leave her, it was better to be straight about it and rip it off like a Band-Aid.

"Don't you want to sit down?" said Tom, pointing to a chair.

Molly shook her head. "No, just talk. We've been beating around the bush long enough. Just talk to me, hard as it is… I can take it."

Tom took a deep breath. "I got a fantastic job offer."

"Oh…" Molly sat down. She hadn't expected that. "That's great news, why do you look like someone kicked your puppy?"

"It's not in London Molly, It's in Cambridge."

"I see." She said reaching for a random bundle of food. "What did you tell them?" She asked, dreading his answer.

"I told them that I was engaged and that it was a decision I had to make with my fiancée. We still have time; I have until next month to give them my answer."

Molly nodded silently, chewing at her food. She had no idea on what to tell him… well actually the only thing she wanted to tell him was 'I love London, just refuse the job…we're fine here, no?' but she didn't even know what this job was and she felt immediately selfish for thinking that.

"I'll be in charge of the whole department, quite a promotion I might say. They will pay the full relocation and my yearly wage will go up of 50 percent."

"You really want it, don't you?"

Tom shrugged one shoulder. "Well sure I would, but we're engaged and you need to be a full part of the decision."

"What about me though? My job? It's not like are a lot of pathologist jobs available you know."

"With my wage increase and the cost of living in Cambridge compared to London, we would have a much higher purchasing power even if we only have one salary."

Molly frowned, displeased. "What are you saying? You don't want me to work anymore? I have nothing against stay at home wives and moms, Tom, but we talked about it and it's not who I am."

Tom shook his head. "No, it's not what I am saying Moll. It just I remember a few months ago you talked about doing some specialization…Domalogy or something"

"Dermatopathology."

"Yes! Well if you can't find a job right away, why not go back to school? With my new job we could easily live with one wage, it's all I am saying."

Molly sighed. "Can I have some time to think about it? I mean, it's quite a change."

"Of course. It's a decision we have to make together I know that. It's just-" He shook his head, putting some food in his mouth.

"It's just what, Tom?"

"Really consider it okay? Check the jobs or the university."

Molly put the food container heavily on the desk and leaned back on her chair. She didn't like the lack of trust from Tom. "Why wouldn't I?"

"It seems that your prerogatives changed recently. You – You just don't seem as committed to our relationship as you once were."

"Tom, that's not true. What can I do to prove it?"

Tom looked at the clock. "Just think about Cambridge Moll, just give this idea a fair shot."

"I will, I swear."

Tom nodded, giving her a small smile. "Good. Here's the full package and the job description for you to have a look at." He added, reaching for an envelope in his coat pocket. "I have to go back to work, I'll see you tonight." He kissed her forehead and left.

Molly looked at the envelope and ran her hand over its smooth surface. She knew she would have to look at it and give it an honest and fair consideration, but there was a part in her heart that hurt at the simple idea of leaving London… though she refused to even acknowledge the reason why.

_You can't keep doing that to yourself or to him, Molly. People don't think twice before leaving you why should you keep doing it._ She thought, angrily folding the envelope in her bag before throwing the remaining of the food away and going back to her autopsy.

**SHSHSHSHSHSHSHHSHSHSHSHSHSHHSHSHSHSHSHHSHSHSS**

"Hello, brother dear."

"Mycroft…" Sherlock sighed as soon as his brother entered the flat. "Did John call you? He said he wouldn't."

"No, why? Is there any reason for Dr. Watson to call me?"

"What? No. Why are you here Mycroft?"

"Can't one man come to see his brother?" asked Mycroft, twirling his umbrella.

"Not you, no. What do you want?"

Mycroft sat on John's chair across from Sherlock. "Aren't you going to offer me a tea?"

"I didn't intend to."

"Your manners are getting worse and worse, little brother. Do I need to inform Mummy?"

Sherlock growled. "Don't push me, Mycroft I am really not in the mood."

"What mood are you in for, brother of mine?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I don't know, planning your murder, maybe?"

Mycroft sighted, rolling his eyes. "Don't forget I'm the smart one, Sherlock and I'm pretty sure you've planned my murder over and over again. I don't think there is a scenario you didn't think of. When did you start planning my murder? When you were 12, right?"

"11, actually but you make a valid point, I figured 48 ways to kill you."

"I feel special; I deserve a special place in your mind palace."

Sherlock snorted, looking away to his skull.

"Tea?"

"Mrs. Hudson, we need tea!" Sherlock shouted at the top of his lungs. "So, stop playing around Mycroft what do you want?"

"I was concerned little brother. It has been over a month since the killing of the priest and since then nothing, not a single case. It's not like you; I had to come check on you." Mycroft was drumming his fingers on the arms of his chair which was a clear indication for Sherlock that he was hiding something.

"Don't you have your little spies to do that? I'm sure I am at least a level 5 in your book."

"A 6 actually and they don't know you as well as I do."

"Sherlock Holmes," said Mrs. Hudson, coming into the flat with a tray full of tea and cookies. "How many times do I need to tell you that I'm your _landlady_, not your housekeeper? You cannot give me orders, especially not in that manner!"

"And yet here you are with what I asked," said Sherlock, still keeping the eyes on Mycroft.

She sighed, putting the tray down loudly on the coffee table. "Somebody should teach you manners young man, I would love to meet your mother." She said with clear reprobation.

"I will give you her number. Thanks you Mrs. Hudson," said Mycroft with a bright smile.

Sherlock glared at him. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson."

Mycroft reached for a cup. "You know the Occam Razor theory Sherlock?"

"Now you're just insulting me, brother. Did you forget I have a chemistry degree?"

"What does this theory say?"

"When you have two competing theories that make exactly the same predictions, the simpler one is the better."

"They are both dead Sherlock, the woman was murdered and the police proved it. Why do you have to make it so complicated? Just drop it and move on, this story holds no interest."

Sherlock looked at his brother, silently trying to deduce him. Mycroft has always been the hardest to decipher but there was genuine concern in his eyes…Sherlock's eyes slit with suspicion. There was not only concern in his eyes, there was fear there too. Sherlock almost never saw fear within Mycroft. "What are you afraid of Mycroft? Of what I might find out?"

"What are you talking about? I have no fears."

"Lies." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Listen. Either you are straight with me or you walk out. Even if being straight is not in your habit." He added with a crooked smile.

"Very funny Sherlock, I might have been offended if it came from anyone else but from you…"

"What that is supposed to mean?"

Mycroft smiled. "I think we both know what I mean. In your case, you have no idea what sex even is."

Sherlock opened his mouth to reply but Mycroft raised his hand dismissively.

"That's not the point Sherlock. The point is you don't know what you are up against."

"But you do….How?" Asked Sherlock, leaning closer, resting his arms on his legs.

"It doesn't matter, just-"

"How?!" Sherlock shouted. He was losing his temper now; he didn't like to be left into the dark.

"Mrs. Hudson didn't call only John, she called me too."

"And what did you find that I missed?"

"You didn't miss anything, you just didn't know where to look. If I tell you, can you promise me to leave it be?"

Sherlock shook his head. "You know I won't. Tell me or don't, it doesn't matter in the end I will find out what you're hiding from me, I always do."

Mycroft nodded, he knew his brother's tenacity and what worried him most was that, when his brother was highly frustrated and obsessed, a drug relapse was not too far and this was not something he would ever allow to happen again. "What about if I told you to call me before you do anything rash? Will that work?"

"What are you considering as being rash? It seems that we have very different views on the matter."

"Anything that might cost your life, other people's lives or threaten the security of our nation."

Sherlock pondered that for a minute. "Fine, I can agree to that."

Mycroft left out a small humourless laugh before taking a deep breath. "Alright."

Sherlock kept his face emotionless, but inside he was bubbling with excitement as he was about to get some of the answers he had been looking for over two months. He linked his fingers together and rested them under his chin. "Go on."

"When I came here you were sleeping and John was taking your drawings down."

"John drugged me." Sherlock said with some remaining indignation.

"Good for him. Anyway, I saw the symbol, it's a symbol I know quite well, brother and I know it is something you will never be able to take down, many have tried and failed….for centuries."

Sherlock frowned. "Stop with the romancing brother, just spit it out."

"Freemasonry."

Sherlock laughed. "Come on Mycroft, I know freemasonry, I even know you're one." Sherlock shook his head. "I know the freemasonry symbols and this one is not." He added taping his notebook.

"It is Sherlock, you don't know everything. You are smart but I am smarter. And the symbol is the symbol of a very secret part of freemasonry, so secret even I don't know the members."

"You don't know? But you know everything."

Mycroft smiled. "I know what I want to, brother and even I know it's better that I don't know what this group is doing."

"What group Mycroft?"

"Illuminati."

Sherlock snorted. "Come on be serious, Mycroft. Illuminatis disappeared centuries ago, it's just not-" Sherlock stopped talking when he saw his brother impassible face. Everything about Mycroft was screaming 'truth'. "You're not joking, are you?"

"La plus belle des ruses du diable est de vous persuader qu'il n'existe pas. "

"The finest trick of the devil is to persuade you that he does not exist." Sherlock nodded. "Baudelaire is always a very fitting reference."

"I rather you leave them alone Sherlock, they have a web that even I can't comprehend. I can protect you but I won't be able to protect you against them."

"I don't need your protection."

"Oh but you do, you just don't know to what extent." Mycroft sighed standing up. "Now you know what you wanted to know. I know you won't listen to me and you won't drop it, but try at least to be careful."

"You know me."

"Yes…Sadly I do." Mycroft walked to the door, but stopped just before crossing the threshold. "No matter what you think, I'm not worried about them or my job or even this country. I am worried about you." Mycroft closed his eyes. "Losing you….Losing you would break my heart."

Sherlock started to cough as he choked on the tea he was in the process of swallowing. When the coughing fit was over he looked up to see that Mycroft was already gone.

It was maybe for the best, what the bloody hell was he supposed to say to that?

Sherlock grinned, scanning the books on his shelves, trying to find the book he needed. _Illuminati_, this case just went from a 7 to a 9.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: **

I don't have much to say except that your reviews mean the world to me and that I do not own BBC Sherlock.

I hope you are going to enjoy this chapter and don't forget to leave a little note.

Thanks

Steffy2106

**Chapter 10:**

"Did you think they were going to invite you to join them?" asked John as they exited the Freemasons Hall in 60 Great Queen St.

Sherlock glared at him whilst hailing a cab.

"You did, didn't you?" John chuckled.

"Why does it seem so inconceivable to you, John? I'm a genius, I have an international reputation and seeing as my brother is a member I would think that I would be a great addition to the Freemasons."

"You have also an international reputation of being a pain in the arse who unravels well kept secrets and loves to put his nose in other people business. No, Sherlock, you wouldn't be a great addition to a _secret_ organization."

Sherlock snorted as they settled in the taxi.

"I know it's all new to you, Sherlock but some people can actually say no to you if they want."

"I don't like it. But it's okay."

"You're giving up?" John asked, sounding somewhat hopeful.

Sherlock looked at him as though he had lost his mind. "Really John, when did I ever give up?"

John sighed. "I know, it was wishful thinking."

"Well don't waste your wishes on absurdities. Look what I managed to get," he said with a proud smile, extending a white envelope to John.

John took out the card, read it and looked back at Sherlock with incredulity. "Really, Sherlock? You at a ball? And you will go as…" He looked back down as the card." Mr. Kunze and guest?" John shook his head. "Sure. What could possibly go wrong?"

"You are not reading well, Dr. Watson," said Sherlock with a very heavy German accent. "It's a masquerade, the hall will be full of people, which means it's the best time for me to snoop around… We will go incognito."

"We?" John shook his head. "I don't think so. First because, incognito or not, two men together will really attract attention and as I told you over and over again, Mary and I are leaving for the weekend. The wedding is in a week and we need to go see my great aunt Josephine because she's too old to come to the church."

"Ah yes…" Sherlock sighed dramatically, taking his phone out of his pocket. "At what time is your train?"

"5pm." John looked at his watch. "Which means I should go home now."

Sherlock leaned toward the taxi driver and changed the destination from 221b Baker Street to John's address before starting to text

"Thank you… I have to admit I'm quite surprised you gave in so easily."

Sherlock's phone beeped, he growled and texted back. "What is there to say, John? Can I change your plans? I guess I could but it wouldn't be good for your relationship, and I promised you and Mary that I would not make things more difficult than they're ought to be, so-" Sherlock's phone beeped again. "Excuse me," he said to John before dialling a number. "Hello? Yes, I know you're not my secretary but there is no other way for me to find out. Don't be so difficult, Mycroft." Sherlock rolled his eyes before looking at John." Of course I know that you know. You know everything! And I'm sure she's a level 6 just like John and I."

_She?_ John mouthed to Sherlock.

Sherlock shrugged before pursing his lips in clear irritation. "Fine! You win. I'll take the parents to _Les Miserables_ matinee when they come next week… now tell me where can I find Molly tonight."

John shook his head, he had feared that.

"Thank you my dear brother, it wasn't so hard was it? Why? It has nothing to do with you. Bye now." Sherlock hung up.

"Sherlock…" John started, voice full of reprobation.

"What John? My brother tricked me into taking my parents to Les Miz. Believe me this information cost me dearly."

"This has nothing to do with your brother. Leave Molly alone, Sherlock, I'm sure you noticed her relationship with Tom was strained since you're back and I don't think it will survive much more."

Sherlock snorted. "I don't know much about relationships, John but if hers can't survive me it's pretty weak if you want my opinion. Perhaps it's better for it to end."

"You're a pretty big obstacle to work around, Sherlock, especially with the way Moll feels about you."

"Felt," Sherlock corrected as the taxi stopped in front of John's apartment.

"Please don't tell me you believe that."

Sherlock shook his head. Of course he didn't believe that, but he was burying his head in the sand just like Molly seemed to be doing.

John exited the taxi and leaned down through the open door. "I promised Mary to let you figure it out by yourself but I can't do it anymore. You need to realize what Molly means to you." He raised his hand before allowing Sherlock to answer. "I don't want to hear it Sherlock, whatever you have to say...It's for you to know the truth because if you continue like that you'll not only destroy her relationship with Tom, you'll destroy her and yourself in the process. I don't know how you're going to figure it out Sherlock, I don't even know _**what**_ you're going to figure out – even if I have a small idea- but you have to do it and you have to do it quickly."

Mary called him from the second floor window.

John sighed. "I'll see you on Monday, Sherlock. And remember to think before destroying what Molly has constructed with Tom. You can accept the truth now or accept it later, but you can't run from it forever." John added, closing the door.

Sherlock watched John walk back to his house, completely numbed by his statement. Sherlock wanted to tell John that he was being ridiculous and yet a part of him refused to deny anything. John was an amateur at deducing but still, Sherlock had realized when Molly was hurt or when he took her home that she had meant a bit more for him that he was acknowledging. He trusted her, sure, he even cared for her, but he also had to admit that she was instigating some feelings that were foreign to him, a certain fondness he was not sure what to make of.

"So? Where are we going now, sir?"

"What?" Sherlock looked at the driver as he came back from a thousand miles away.

"Where to now, sir?"

Sherlock got a 50 out of his wallet and gave it to driver. "Nowhere, I'll walk." Sherlock exited the cab and started to walk back to Baker Street. John had told him to figure it out but how could he do it when he didn't even know what it meant himself? '_Sentiment, Sentiment is a chemical defeat found on the losing side_' and Sherlock believed that so strongly for so long but now, now he was not sure anymore.

Sherlock looked up and smiled looking at the window of the shop he was standing in front of. He shook his head. Sentiment could wait. His work was all that mattered, this illuminati case would be one of his greatest achievements.

**SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH**

Sherlock was standing in the shadow of an alley, looking at the restaurant where Molly, her fiancé and another couple were sitting for dinner.

He took a step towards the restaurant and stopped, hesitating. No matter what everybody thought of him he was not always doing things he wanted without thinking about consequences, he was thinking sometimes - especially when his decisions were going to affect the people he cared about. Molly fell into that category. Sherlock adjusted his bowtie, concentrating on Molly Hooper. He wanted to be sure that he was doing what was right before he was about to interrupted her dinner and he knew she was going to follow him. Sentiments were a weakness, a liability, and Molly proved it to him time and time again even if it was to his advantage it was always to her detriment.

Molly smiled at Tom, but it was a tight smile. Sherlock frowned. Everything about her was tense tonight, like she didn't want to be there… She was uncomfortable, clearly she didn't like these people very much and obviously her fiancé didn't care. Sherlock crossed the street to the restaurant, keeping his eyes on Molly. He didn't miss the slight anger that was on her face when he entered - she probably knew about Cambridge right now and was angry about having to make the decision.

"Could we get a bottle of Bordeaux red please?" asked the man across from Molly as Sherlock approached the table.

"I'm afraid I cannot help you, sir and as I believe that you are quite a neophyte when it comes to wine, you might want to leave the choice to someone slightly more knowledgeable which, in your case, shouldn't be too hard to find."

Molly looked up when she heard Sherlock's deep, velvety voice and her jaw went slack at the sight. She had always found Sherlock extremely attractive, especially once she had discovered how brilliant the man was. Some people found his face quite peculiar, but she found him positively dashing - especially with his eyes that forever changed colour. She could spend hours gazing into their depths. But right now she had no words to describe Sherlock. He was wearing a tuxedo and it looked extremely expensive. His unruly dark curls were sleek back and his hair was parted at the side, like a man in the late nineteen forties. The Sherlock standing in front of her was the most beautiful man she had ever seen, so beautiful it made her heart ache.

Sherlock probably read her mind because he met her eyes with a playful half smile on his face. "Close your mouth Molly Hooper, you'll have the leisure to ogle later."

Molly blushed violently before throwing a quick, worried glance at Tom. He looked beyond furious. Molly silently thanked god that they were in a public place with Tom's friends, as it was probably the only thing that stopping Tom from making a scene.

"Sherlock, what are you doing here?" Molly asked, finally finding her voice again.

"I need you to come with me." He replied, extending his hand towards Molly to help her up.

Molly looked at his hand and shook her head. "Sherlock, I'm having dinner with friends, you can't just barge in and-"

"But it's important, Molly, it's about the case, _the case,"_ he pressed.

"You've got to be kidding me." Tom spat, glaring at Sherlock. "You're kidding, right?" He added, but Sherlock completely ignored him.

"Why do you even bother trying to be nice to these people, Molly?" Sherlock stated, pointing to the couple. "She clearly doesn't like you, she still has feelings for this fiancé of yours even if she picked the much richer and duller guy beside her. She is venal and yet she thinks you're not good enough for him, there is disdain for you written all over her face. As for him," Sherlock continued, pointing to the man, "He is painfully oblivious if he thinks a girl like her will pick him for something else other than his bank account."

"Sherlock, stop it, please." Molly growled, kicking him. She sighed; it took less than 3 minutes for Sherlock to anger everybody at the table, probably one of his personal records. "Sherlock I can't –"

"Molly please, you know I wouldn't be here if it wasn't important. This case…This case..."

She hated herself for giving in but she knew his obsession could lead to a dangerous path and she knew that his drug addiction was only so far.

She sighed, turning to Tom; he looked actually surprised as he read her face. His lips were pursed in a 'you've got to be kidding me'. "Tom I have to go." She whispered. "I'm sorry but this case; it's linked to the person who hurt me."

Tom was actually speechless and she knew he was beyond angry with her. She had promised him he was more important than Sherlock in her life and yet here she was, choosing him again. This decision was much bigger than that, but Tom didn't understand that and she couldn't blame him. She had changed since Sherlock was back and she hadn't let Tom in it at all. If she was honest with herself, she knew that this decision could cost her the engagement and yet she stood nonetheless. "I'm sorry. I'll see you tonight." She smiled apologetically to the table, then grabbed her bag and coat before exiting the restaurant behind Sherlock.

"I hope this is worth it, Sherlock" she said breathlessly as she trailed behind him through the streets of London. "This decision might have cost me my fiancé."

Sherlock quickly glanced behind him before concentrating on his way again. "You don't seem that heartbroken about it; maybe it should make you think about your decision to stick with this man." Sherlock sighed, "but yes, it is worth it, this case was much bigger than we thought at first Molly. So much bigger."

Molly couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "Where are you taking me?"

"To a Ball at the freemason hall."

Molly stopped dead in the street. "A Ball?"

Sherlock swirled around. "Yes, now move, Molly, we can't be late."

She shook her head. "Look how I'm dressed" she said, pointing to her trousers and multi-coloured shirt. "I can't go like this."

Sherlock smiled, extending his hand toward her. "Don't worry, Molly Hooper, I have it all figured out."

Molly grabbed his hand and shivered when her fingers connected with his. He squeezed her hand, pulling her behind him.

"Should I be scared?" she asked playfully.

"Terrified." He replied with a low chuckle.


	11. Chapter 11

**A.N: **Hey guys!

I was stressing about this chapter as it contains something you have been waiting for. I might not be updating as often now as I have found a job BUT I promised to update at least once per week.

Thank you for all the reviews, I don't even know what to say and thanks to Georgia Beta-Extraordinaire.

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or it's character but thanks to the sweet reviewer who was much too kind to compare me with Gatiss.

Steffy2106

**Chapter 11**

The Freemasons Hall was just coming into view when Molly stopped again. "Sherlock!" She whispered harshly. "They won't let me in."

"Molly, have a little faith. Your scepticism is wounding me."

She snorted and was about to answer when he pulled her into what looked like an abandoned house.

"Here is your guinea pig, Dolores, impress me." He said, pushing Molly into a room where a girl was waiting for her.

Molly saw some lamps, a gown bag hanging on the wall, and makeup and hair product on the table.

"We're running out of time." Said the girl, grabbing a chair. "Sit."

"I…Ummm."

"No time to talk, Sherlock gave me 30 minutes and that's it."

Molly didn't have time to even think of anything, the girl had already pushed her on the chair and started to run a comb in her hair.

Within 15 minutes her hair were pulled up and her make-up was done. "Better than I thought it would turn out" said the girl with a wide grin. "Let me tell you that Sherlock won't know what hit him."

Molly blushed. "Can I see?"

The girl shook her head. "Wait until we put you in the dress."

When the girl revealed the dress Molly's heart stopped. It was probably the most beautiful dress she had ever seen.

It was a Silk Chiffon ball gown with a halter beaded strap erupting from the sweetheart ruched neckline, which was embellished at the waist by a jeweled detail resembling the luxury of a goddess of ancient days. A flowing skirt waved to the floor length and the back was sealed by a sweep train. The girl helped her in and it fitted like a glove. "All I can say Sherlock knows your mensuration by heart yeah? That dress fits like perfectly; he probably studied your body quite thoroughly."

Molly blushed and the girl laughed.

"Anyways…"The girl placed a pair of high heels in front of her. "Now you can look."

Molly turned around and met her reflection not really sure the woman who was standing there was her. Molly never considered herself as beautiful - not even as pretty - but right now there was no denying that she was _gorgeous_….Make up did make things magical.

Her hair was pinned up in a messy bun with strands falling down her neck in untidy ringlets, the makeup made her skin look flawless, the cheekbone higher, her lips fuller and her eyes bigger.

The dress put her asset in valor while hiding her little flaws, and the bright red of the silk against her porcelain skin made a perfect contrast.

"This dress was really made for you. All we can say is that Sherlock has very sure tastes."

Molly blushed again as Sherlock knocked on the door. "I'm sure it's just fine, we need to go now." He said with clear impatience.

The girl rolled her eyes. "Come in you twit and see for yourself."

Molly turned toward the door as Sherlock entered and she couldn't contain her smile as she saw his eyes widen ever so slightly and his jaw go slack. This lasted barely a few seconds but it was enough for Molly to feel good about herself.

"I…" Sherlock cleared his throat and stood straighter. "You did a fine job, Dolores. Ready to go, Molly Hooper?"

Molly nodded.

"Very well, the final touch" he said getting a beautiful red Venetian Butterfly half mask from the table. "Let me help you" he went to stand behind her and after Molly had adjusted the mask on her face, Sherlock tightened the ribbons behind her head. He let his hands trailed down her neck and rested them lightly on her shoulders. "You look stunning Molly Hooper." He whispered close to her ear.

Molly shivered at his words but he had already broken the contact. He slid a black half mask on and extended his elbow to her. "Shall we?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice and grabbed his elbow.

"Don't worry about your things; they will be in the taxi."

When they reached the door, they stood behind a few couples.

"Stand straight Molly, you're beautiful and you belong there just as much as they do." Sherlock said, looking down at her with a small smile.

Molly giggled.

"What's so funny?"

"With your mask, you make me think of Zorro."

"Is that a compliment?" He asked looking straight ahead as they were approaching the door slowly. "It doesn't sound like one."

"Oh but it is. I found Zorro ever so charming; actually he was my first crush. When I was a little girl I used to watch the Zorro 1957 TV show. I was so in love with Guy Williams."

Sherlock grinned as they reached the door. "Well, I'll be your Zorro for the evening."

Sherlock extended the card to the person at the door and spoke to him in flawless German. Molly had taken French at school and could barely understand it, German was as foreign as it could get.

"So what do we do now?" She whispered as they entered the giant hall full of masked people.

"Now _Liebchen_, we mingle." He replied with a very thick German accent, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her into the crowd.

Sherlock walked slowly, exchanging pleasantry with people as they crossed the room as if they knew them.

"Do you know those people?"

Sherlock snorted. "Of course not, but they wouldn't dare say that. I need you to be my eyes."

"How?"

Sherlock looked around and pulled her down a corridor. "I need you to pull him away from where he's standing. I need to enter the office."

"I see…You know I'm a sucky liar, right?"

"Yes but you have other…ummm… Attributes. The man won't even notice, he's young and still impressionable, he's here only for the night he has no idea of what he is protecting."

Molly blushed even though she knew he was saying that just to make her do what he needed. She sighed. "How long do you need?"

"10 minutes."

"Okay." She approached the guard, wrapping her arms around herself trying to bring out her barely existing breasts. "Excuse me? "

The guard eyes light with appreciation, which reassured her. "Yes?"

"I lost my friend and-" she pointed to a spot to the left, and as expected the guard turned in the direction she was showing, allowing Sherlock to slip behind him. "He was there and then…. Boom! Not anymore." She was playing dumb. She had been told a few times that her brain, even if attractive to some men, was not an appealing feature to men of lower intelligence.

The guard smiled to her. "All I have to say is that your escort is quite foolish to leave you unintended."

Molly giggled, and felt completely ridiculous, but he seemed to like it. "Do you always work here?"

"No, I'm working contracts, much more interesting."

"Oh yeah, I bet. The discovery of new surroundings. It probably keeps you on edge." She said, with pretend admiration.

"The guard looked proud and straightened. "Exactly. Listen, I'm done tonight at 10, want to go for a drink?"

Molly noticed an older guard frowning in their direction, his lips pursed in disapproval. She knew they had less than a couple of minutes before he came and stopped them.

_Come on Sherlock, move faster._ She willed him.

The guard started to approach her and with each step he took Molly's heart beat faster. The man was about 5 feet away when Sherlock appeared.

"Sorry, she's mine, mate." Sherlock said, pulling her down a corridor.

"I think they know." Molly whispered breathless.

"They don't know anything, follow my lead." Sherlock added turning a corner. "We're sneaking to make out not to hide anything."

Before Molly had the chance to say or do anything, Sherlock had her pushed against a wall and his lips were on hers.

He broke the kiss. "Come on Molly, you have to act like you're enjoying it. "

Molly's brain woke up and she decided to forget about her conscience, at least for the time being. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back to her. She kissed him with everything she'd ever felt for him, his kiss was as skilled as everything else he could do. His lips were also soft, so soft, she never wanted for it to end.

The guard passed them and she expected Sherlock to stop kissing her except that he didn't, he pressed even harder into her and he caught her bottom lip gently between his teeth.

As she let her tongue sneak out of her mouth Tom's face flashed in her mind and she pushed Sherlock, horrified by what she had just done.

"No…" She whispered bringing her hand to her lips, her eyes filling up with tears

"Molly." His voice was thick. Sherlock took a step toward her; he was just as confused as she felt. He had intended to kiss her to distract the guard; he never expected his body and heart to react that way. His mind went in overdrive and he couldn't stop kissing her. He had no control on himself; she was like a fix, a fix he was craving for. It was not something he ever experienced before and he never wanted to experience it again.

"No!" She said louder, rushing out of the hall and jumping into the first taxi she found, ignoring Sherlock's pleas.

When Molly came home she had no time to even think, as Tom was sitting in the armchair, a small suitcase beside him.

"Tom, what-" Molly breath itched in her throat. "Don't do anything drastic, let's talk about it- I…."

"I'm taking the job, Moll."

"What?"

He sighed, standing up. "I phoned them and left a voicemail telling them I'm accepting."

"I don't have anything to say about it?" She asked, both hurt and angry.

"No, not anymore. You know you can be a pathologist anywhere in the country, St Bart is not even the best hospital, the one in Cambridge is even better. This is a chance of a lifetime for me; double the money and my chance to become the head of an engineering department. Tell me Moll, look me in the eyes and give me one good reason why you want to stay here."

Molly opened the mouth, but nothing came. Tom knew she didn't have any family in London; she didn't even have close friends. She closed her mouth and bit her bottom lip.

Tom gave her a sad smile. "Exactly. The only thing keeping you here is Sherlock Holmes and I can't keep ignoring it. It's not fair on me."

"He needs me." She said, knowing that part of her needed him too.

Tom snorted. "What this man needs is himself. He is the most self-absorbed, cocky bastard that I've never met. He could never love you the way I do Moll, never."

Molly shook her head. "I know that, I don't expect that. Tom, I'm with you."

"But are you though? I mean really?" He let out a weary sigh turning to the shelves and running his fingertips over one of their engagement party photos. "The thing is, when we got together I knew you were hung on a man. You kept listening to sad song, when the song 'Fingerprints' by Kellie Coffey was on your eyes would glisten with tears. It didn't take long for me to discover who had a hold on you; every time there was an article about Sherlock Holmes in the paper you would grow quiet, pain visible on your face. But I was okay with that and you know why?" He asked, turning around to face her again.

Molly shook her head.

"Because I thought I was competing with a ghost. It was okay, I was sure that after some time he would just fade and maybe that one day you will be completely mine and I asked you to marry and you said yes I thought you had moved on. If I had known he was still alive-"

"You never would have asked me to marry you." She guessed.

"I don't know, maybe I would have… I'm masochist that way." He detailed her up and down. "I don't know what you did tonight but you look divine." He admitted, almost regretfully.

"Where are you going?"

"Cambridge… For a week. This is an ultimatum, Moll, we can't keep going on that way both being hurt. I'll be back next Sunday. Either you decide to come with me or-" He looked down.

"Or we're done."

He nodded.

"What about the wedding?"

Tom smiled. "You know they don't want me there and I don't want to go. Decide Molly, this one is on you but just know that he will always hurt you, he will never give you what you know."

"So you're leaving? Just like that."

"Yes. I might be walking away now but you left me a long time ago. Now you just have to figure out if being there for him is worth sacrificing us. I love you Moll, I probably always will. I just can't keep on going this way. A week, one choice, him or me it's just that simple." He took his suitcase and took the direction of the door.

"You're leaving now?!" She asked, both guilty and hurt.

"I am going to sleep at the hotel tonight; I think it's for the best. We're both hurt and the anger might make us say thing we might regret. Goodbye Molly, I'll see you in a week."

Tom left, leaving Molly frozen in the middle of the living room and the only thing she could think about was Sherlock lips on her and his plea for her to stay.


	12. Chapter 12

**A.N: **Hey guys!

Sorry this chapter is shorter than usually but it was my way to fight my writer block. Next chapter will be the wedding so be prepared. Once again thank you for all the reviews I am trying my best to answer all of you especially when you have questions . I have no word to tell you how all your support and infatuation with this Sherlolly! Thank you to my beta Georgia for being awesome.

If any of you ever considered Molly/Mycroft check my story called "Unexpectedly Expectant" you might like it.

Anyways I don't own anything so….

Leave me a review!

Steffy

**Chapter 12:**

"Good morning Sherlock."

"Oh hello John," replied Sherlock, quickly glancing up before concentrating on his screen again. "How's Aunt Mildred doing?"

"Her name is Josephine."

Sherlock sighed and typed furiously on his keyboard. "It's just a detail John, her name is irrelevant."

John rolled his eyes and sat on his chair, facing Sherlock's back.

"She's doing fine. She was happy to see us."

"Good, good." Sherlock replied and John knew he wasn't listening anymore.

"How's the case going?"

"It's going, John. I retrieved a list of the members and I think I pinpointed a few potential candidates for the illuminati."

"What did you do, Sherlock?"

Sherlock typing faltered for a second, leading John to think Sherlock did indeed do something pretty stupid. "I don't know what you're talking about."

John leaned on the chair. "I have been gone for the whole weekend and you haven't tried to call me, not once."

"You expressly asked me to leave you alone this weekend, which I did. Why is it so surprising?"

"Because you never listen to me, Sherlock!"

"Well, maybe now I do."

John snorted. "Molly called Mary by the way."

Sherlock stopped typing but kept his back to John. "I see….And does it has anything to do with me?"

"I don't know, Sherlock, you tell me. She called Mary to tell her she was coming _without_ Tom."

Sherlock swirled on the chair ad John didn't miss the little gleam of victory in his eyes. "They broke up?"

John's eyes narrowed ever so slightly in suspicion. "No, not officially anyway, but I can see that it's probably headed in that direction."

"Oh… Well I'm sorry for them."

"What happened on Friday night, Sherlock?"

Sherlock grimaced. "Things didn't really go as planned. It's…. Molly overreacted."

"Did she? Molly isn't usually a drama queen."

Sherlock sighed; "I don't think I want to talk to you about it. You look like you're going to give me one of your lectures, and if I wanted one of those I would give Mycroft a call."

"I don't do that!" John shouted indignantly.

"Of course you do."

"Sherlock you are my best friend all my _lectures_ are just me trying to help. But I know you well enough to see that you're upset. Something happened and I want to help you."

"I'm not even sure how it happened myself. I might have to concede that human nature is confusing. I mean, I kissed her, I felt her pulse quicken… Her heart, everything in her physiological response showed that she was enjoying it just as much as I did and then she pushed me away, disappeared and refused to answer my calls." Sherlock sighed. "Women are just something else." He frowned, seeing John wide eyed and slightly slack jawed."What?"

John cleared his throat and shook his head as to erase the shock. "Okay, so let me rewind that for a second. You kissed Molly."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"At first it was to distract the guard."

"At first?"

"Yes…" Sherlock trailed off wearily. "I have some experience, I have flirted and kissed many women to obtain what I wished but it was different this time, I actually…" He frowned as if trying to find the right word. "I enjoyed it."

John nodded, trying to hide the half smile on his face. "I see."

Sherlock stood up and started to pace the room, his fingers steepled under his chin. "And I realized something else, too. It's hard to believe, but I'm better when I am with her. I'm sharper, more focused. Difficult to say why, exactly. Perhaps in time, I'll solve that as well, but right now I have these murders to occupy my time."

"This one isn't quite as hard to resolve but the result might be scary. What are your intentions?"

"Well I was thinking about breaking into Mr. Stoltenberg's office. Are you game? I need eyes."

John rolled his eyes and stood up. "Why do you want to break into this man's office? And when I asked the question I was referring to Molly; what are your intentions with Molly?"

"He is the most likely to be part of the illuminati. As for Molly I don't have any intentions." Sherlock said, fastening his scarf and throwing on his coat.

John shook his head. "Sherlock, you can't do that to her, her relationship with Tom is probably destroyed already, but that's not a reason to mess her around."

"I don't intend to mess her around."

"I know that, but it doesn't matter if it is intentional or not, just back off at least until the wedding and see where it goes, okay?"

"I don't believe in relationships, John. It was a mistake, a slip up. It won't ever happen again."

John eyes lit with amusement. "You can be such an idiot it's entertaining to watch. Well, if it's what you believe, you better let her know but let's wait after the wedding, will you?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Sure, I don't believe in this human error."

This time John laughed. "I wonder who you're trying to convince here, Sherlock, me or yourself?"

"Stop your nonsense John; you promised to let it go."

John sighed. "Fine. I don't know why, but I think my wedding will be something to remember."


	13. Chapter 13

**A.N: **Hey guys!

I really hope you're going to like this chapter as it was one of my favorite to write! Please leave me a little review I really want to know what you thought of this chapter. Also note i 'borrowed' from Sherlock original speech as I think that integrating some actual dialogue makes the story more...'cannon'.

Steffy

**Chapter 13:**

Molly was adjusting her yellow bow when she heard the bell.

"I'll be right down," she shouted, knowing it was Greg Lestrade here to pick her up for the wedding. She sighed, looking at her reflection. She felt a bit silly in her bright yellow dress and yellow bow. It had seemed a good idea at the time because Tom was supposed to be wearing a matching tie and pocket handkerchief, but he wasn't here today.

Tom would be back tomorrow for an answer and after a week she still had no idea of what she wanted to do… Leave or stay? She knew what her dad would have said to her. "_Having no answer is an answer, pumpkin. If you aren't sure you want to move, are you sure you're ready to commit to a marriage?_"

"Oh dad, if only you were still here" she whispered, before reaching for her bag, plastering a big fake smile on her face and opening the door.

Greg smiled. "Molly you look…"

"Ridiculous?" She asked, seeing his facial expression.

He shook his head vehemently. "No, no, no! You looked very…sunny."

"Sunny? Really? Of all the things you could have said, 'sunny' is the first word that came to mind?"

Greg blushed lightly. "I…yeah… Come on, let's go, we don't want Mrs. Hudson to wait for too long." He said before rushing to the car.

Molly shook her head with an honest half smile. Teasing Greg Lestrade was fun.

They made it to the church almost late and as they walked in Molly locked eyes with Sherlock who gave her a tentative half smile.

"Isn't he dashing?" asked Mrs. Hudson, as they sat down.

"Who is?" Molly whispered, sitting beside her.

"Well our Sherlock, of course! Look at him, standing all tall and proud. "

"This is John's wedding, Mrs. Hudson, it's his day." Molly told the old lady.

"Of course dear, of course." Mrs. Hudson said, patting Molly's hand. "I was just saying out loud what I'm sure you were thinking." She added, just as Pachelbel's Canon started to play announcing Mary's arrival.

The ceremony has been quite fast, probably due to the fact that neither John nor Mary were really religious.

As Molly lined up to congratulate the new couple her stomach twisted with apprehension at the idea of facing Sherlock again after what had happened between them.

"John, Mary I'm so happy for you." She said sincerely, giving them both a kiss on the cheek.

"Molly," Sherlock said, bowing his head toward her. "I'm glad you're well; you were missing for a while," he said and she didn't miss the underlying 'why did you ignore me?'

"Yes, well, thank you."

Molly was to be seated on one of the first tables with Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade and two single cousins of Johns'. Oh yeah - they put her on the 'single table'.

Molly cringed as Sherlock stood to do his Best Man speech and crossed her fingers under the table. _Please Sherlock, for John and Mary, don't screw this up!_

"Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends ... And ... others. Also ..."

Molly winced, quite a shaky start indeed.

"I'm afraid, John, I can't congratulate you. All emotions, in particular love, stand opposed to the pure cold reason I hold above all things. A wedding is, in my considered opinion, nothing short of a celebration of all that is false and specious and irrational and sentimental in this ailing and morally compromised world. Today we honour the death watch beetle that is the doom of our society and in time, one feels certain, our entire species." Sherlock was looking around the dead silent room

Greg leaned toward Molly, "It's like watching a train wreck," he whispered.

"Shhhh, it'll get better."

"The point I'm trying to make is that I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant, and all around obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet. I am dismissive of the virtuous, unaware of the beautiful, and uncomprehending in the face of the happy. So if I didn't understand I was being asked to be best man, it is because I never expected to be anybody's best friend, and certainly not the best friend of the bravest and kindest and wisest human being I have ever had the good fortune of knowing. John, I am a ridiculous man, redeemed only by the warmth and constancy of your friendship. But as I am apparently your best friend, I cannot congratulate you on your choice of companion. Actually, now I can. Mary, when I say you deserve this man, it is the highest compliment of which I am capable. John, you have endured war, and injury, and tragic loss. So sorry again about that last one. So know this. Today, you sit between the woman you have made your wife and the man you have saved. In short, the two people who love you most in all this world. And I know I speak for Mary as well when I say we will never let you down, and we have a lifetime ahead to prove that."

Molly dabbed her eyes to dry her tears, thanking god for wearing waterproof mascara. She knew Sherlock _did_ feel, but never thought he would be able to share such a deep level of feelings. Maybe not everything was lost for him, maybe one day he could learn to love.

She shook her head and took a big sip of champagne. _Don't be an idiot Molly_.

John and Mary's first dance was a waltz written by Sherlock. They were so beautiful dancing that Molly forgot her own issues for a few minutes and smiled.

After the traditional first dance, the best man was supposed to join the bride and groom in a dance with the maid of honour, so Molly was more than surprised to see Sherlock standing in front of her, one arm behind his back and a hand extended towards her.

"Would you dance with me, Molly Hooper?"

"No, Sherlock, you're supposed to dance with Janine. She's the maid of honour."

Sherlock snorted. "She's a silly idiot. Come on Molly, it's getting awkward now - just stand up and dance."

The song "_I don't love you_" by Ron Pope started as Sherlock pulled her onto the dance floor.

"You're dancing quite well," said Molly honestly.

Sherlock smiled, making her twirl. "I know. Let me tell you a secret. I love to dance and I always have."

Once the new song started the other guests started to dance. Molly separated herself from Sherlock.

"Go take care of your Best Man duties. Thanks for the dance." She removed his hands from her hips and walked back to her table.

It took less than an hour for Molly to be alone at the table. Mrs. Hudson went to bed when she drank one too many and Greg was off flirting with one of the depressed cousins.

Sherlock sat beside her. "He's not right for you, you know that, right? He's not good enough. He doesn't understand how brilliant and dedicated you are, what makes you special."

"Where did that come from?" She asked, realising that he was slightly drunk.

"You should let him go, Molly, because him being with you; it's not really fair."

"What isn't?"

"He wants you and yet he can have whomever he wants, but me… Me, I can only have you."

Molly's anger flared. "What's that supposed to mean? That my standards are so low that I'm the only one who can want you?"

Sherlock snorted. It was so not a sound Molly was accustomed from him. "Hardly! Many women wanted to thank me with sexual favours. I am both famous and a genius. Of course women want me."

Even drunk Sherlock was as cocky as they came. "I'm confused."

Sherlock shook his head, looking at the dancing couples. "Molly, Molly, Molly. I have never been much for relationship or even for people in general. This-" he said pointing to the dancing couples, "is for me a complete waste of time and yet…"

"And yet?" She encouraged, her heart stammering in her chest.

"And yet sometimes I let myself think I could do that, that I could …" He stopped and shook his head, "Nobody ever showed even a remote desire for this simulacra of fulfillment, but you, sometimes... I just never saw you that way, not really. You were always Molly Hooper and with your terrible tastes in men I thought you would always be my spinster. But now there is Tim and maybe, I thought… Maybe if I ever wanted to experience this I can only imagine it being with you."

Molly was conflicted. "So what you're saying right now is that I should break up with _Tom_ because you don't want a relationship, you don't believe in them and yet in the minuscule possibility you would ever want one, it would be with me?"

Sherlock nodded.

Molly let out a small hysterical laugh. He was breaking her beyond words, her eyes starting to burn with unshed tears. "How could you even say this to me?! When you know how I felt for you for so long. Do you know how unfair it is?"

Sherlock turned around and met her eyes. "I know I'm not fair, I know I'm selfish." He grabbed her wine glass and drank it in one go. "But it's the way it is, it's the way it has always been." Sherlock sighed and stood up. "I have to go now. If you decide to be with Tom I wish you all the happiness in the world in Cambridge."

"How do you know?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"You could never love me as much as he loves me." She tried.

"Possibly," he admitted and her heart sank. What did she expect? A declaration of love from Sherlock Holmes? That had as much chance of happening as pigs starting to fly.

Sherlock leaned down, resting his hands on the back of her chair, trapping her. He leaned so closed that the tip of his nose was touching hers. Molly tried not to wince at his alcoholic breath on her face. "But Molly Hooper, we both know you could never love him as much as you love me."

This had the effect of a bucket of cold water on Molly. She pushed him away and stood. "I might love you, but I never hated anyone the way I hate you right now." She reached for her bag. "Good night Sherlock."

Sherlock sat on her chair and watched her walk briskly to the table where John and Mary were sitting. Even in his alcoholic haze he knew he shouldn't have told her all of that, but the alcohol had untied his tongue. Sherlock growled as his vision starting to go blurry. Maybe he had enough, he thought before resting his head on the table and closing his eyes for what he thought was a minute.


	14. Chapter 14

**A.N: **Hey Sherlollies!

Thanks for all the reviews, I was so happy with your responses and tried to reply to every single one of them. Please note the story will end up soon 3 or 4 more chapters.

I am really enjoying this journey.

Steffy2106

**Chapter 14:**

Sherlock woke up with a massive headache that pulsated in time with the loud knocking on his hotel room door.

"Sherlock, open the damn door!" John called.

Sherlock rolled out of bed and fell over in the process. He opened the door, squinting in the dim lighting.

"How much did you drink, mate?" asked John, with little compassion in his voice.

"Not sure," Sherlock croaked, resting the heel of his hand on his forehead. "But I feel like I'm about to die."

John chuckled. "You've always been such a drama queen..." He sighed. "Mary and I are about to leave for the airport but the wife wants to talk to you." John smiled. "'Wife.'" he nodded. "I really like the sound of that."

Sherlock snorted and winced at the pain it caused him. "Stop with the stupid romantic mumbling John, it's only us. Where's Mary?"

John pointed to the door across the hall. "She's finishing her suitcase; tell her I'll take the bags downstairs." John reached up and gave Sherlock an awkward hug. "We'll be back in a week Sherlock, until then try to stay out of trouble okay?"

Sherlock smiled. "You know me."

John grimaced. "Yeah...that's what worries me the most."

"Don't trouble yourself John, I promise to limit my recklessness. Enjoy your time in the sun."

Sherlock closed his door and knocked once on Mary's before walking in without waiting for an answer.

"Ah. Sherlock..." She looked up from her suitcase. "Lord, you look like crap. You really shouldn't drink that much."

"Yes, thanks for the deduction Mary, it's _so_ much help to me right now." He replied with heavy sarcasm. He sat down heavily on a comfy looking settee.

Mary shrugged.

"Your husband told me to tell you that he will be waiting downstairs with the bags."

"Yes, I shouldn't be too long," she replied, closing her suitcase and going to stand in front of him, her arms crossed against her chest. "What happened with Molly last night?"

Sherlock looked at her suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

Mary sighed with exasperation. "Don't play dumb with me, Sherlock Holmes, John and I saw you going since you came back from the dead, we promised each other not to get involved, that it was your business." She chuckled "Not that I am dumb enough to ever believe that John watched from the sidelines. I'm sure he meddled and more than once."

Sherlock opened his mouth to deny it but she held her hand up to stop him.

"I don't care if he did, I knew it from the start. But now her relationship with Tom is as good as over and last night... last night she was so distraught, Sherlock, she had raw pain written all over her face and I know you're to blame so don't insult me by denying it."

"So what am I supposed to do?" He asked annoyed about this conversation, it felt like it was going nowhere and Sherlock was not a big fan of pointless chatter.

"Fix it."

"Fix it?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, I don't care how or what you'll do. I want to come back and see things fixed." She sighed, pointing a finger at him. "Molly is a good woman and it's like you're taking a malignant pleasure in destroying her. I know it's not the case, I know you're just too blind to human nature to even get what you're doing, but I also know that you are _deeply_ fond of her. One day you're going to wake up realising what I already know and it will be too late, she would have given up on you and really, who could blame her? I think she's probably either the bravest or the stupidest woman in earth for hoping for so long."

Sherlock opened his mouth again. But she shook her finger in front of his face.

"This is not open for discussion, Sherlock! You either fix it, stop your bullshit or you let her go." She softened _suddenly_, leaning down to give him a motherly kiss on the top of his head. "We love you, Sherlock, we want you to be happy." She reached for her suitcase and walked to the door, "and please have a shower. You reek." She added, before exiting the room.

**MSMSMSMSMSMSMSMSMSM**

It took Sherlock four aspirins, 6 cups of tea and a cold shower to function again. He didn't remember exactly what he had said to Molly last night but he suspected it had to be pretty stupid. How could he face her and ask her to forgive him for what he said last night when he only had a vague idea? He remembered telling her that Tom and her where not a good match and he had meant it; why should he apologise?

Mary's annoying voice sounded in his head "Fix it!" What was there to fix, anyway? Molly was better single than she was engaged; she was different when she was engaged and Sherlock didn't like that version of her.

And when Mary told him to fix it she didn't say _how_ to do that, what was he even supposed to do? Make things better between her and the mentally challenged fiancé? Sherlock snorted, that was never going to happen.

When Sherlock arrived at Molly's house the sun was already setting.

"May I see Molly?" Sherlock asked as soon as Tom opened the door.

"Oh you want to see Molly?" asked Tom, and Sherlock didn't have to be well acquainted with the man to see he was angry.

"I believe that's what I requested." Sherlock responded with a smirk. However no matter how intuitive Sherlock was, he never saw the first coming until he was sprawled on the floor.

"Here!" said Tom, throwing a letter on the floor beside Sherlock before slamming the door shut.

Sherlock reached for the enveloped that said 'Tom' in Molly's delicate script.

_Dearest Tom,_

_I believe you already know what is in this letter as the engagement ring on top was probably indicator enough._

_I never meant to hurt you and never doubt that, when I accepted to marry you, I meant it with all my heart._

_Please don't think I am leaving you because of Sherlock. I am leaving you for you, for me...for us._

_I know you're probably wondering how breaking your heart is in your best interests but I swear it is. You were right, you deserve so much more than what I am giving you. I have spent the whole week trying to decide if I wanted to come to Cambridge and as I am writing these lines I am still undecided._

_You are an amazing man, Tom, and you deserve someone who would follow you without a second thought, someone for whom you will be everything and sadly this person is not me._

_I swore I would never do you wrong but I __suppose that, in the end,__ I did. __For that I'm sorry, so very, very sorry... You won't ever know how sorry I am._

_It's with a breaking heart that I am telling you goodbye and I know one day you will meet the right woman, the woman that will love you completely. A woman who will love you as much as you deserve._

_I will always love you and keep your memories in my heart._

_Thank you for loving me._

_Love you always_

_Molly xxx_

Sherlock reread the letter twice and realised at this instant, as a weight lifted from his chest, how terrified he had been that she would end up leaving.

He frowned, folding the letter back in the envelope. What did it mean? Where did this visceral fear of losing her come from? It was just Molly, his pathologist, his Molly.

"My Molly..." He whispered, trying the words. Was he becoming prone to the human error he always dismissed with disdain? How could something sneak up on him without him even realising it?

John's words hit him like a tonne of bricks: '_You're always so perceptive of anyone but yourself_' Did John know the importance Molly had in Sherlock's life? Did they figure it out before he did?

"So I presume you don't know where she is?" Sherlock shouted in the direction of the door before standing up.

Tom opened the door again, an eyebrow raised in disbelief. "Are you seriously asking me that?"

Sherlock shrugged, rubbing the side of his jaw. "It was worth a shot, you can't get any madder."

"Yeah... Well I'm not sure of that."

"That's not what I wanted." Sherlock said, extending the letter back to Tom.

"Of course it is." Tom replied, looking at the letter but not reaching for it. "I don't know if you did anything to make her stay but you are responsible. The decision she took was not to decide whether she wanted to be with you or with me, this was never in the equation. It was a choice of who she couldn't live without." Tom sighed "and to be fair, I always knew it was you."

"I just realised that that sentiment might be mutual," said Sherlock barely louder than a whisper, still unsure of what he felt.

Tom let out a humourless laugh. "It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure that one out." Tom sighed. "Listen, I don't like you and I think we both know that. But Molly… she is one of the good ones here."

"I know that!" Sherlock said, standing straighter.

"Just...Whatever you do, just treat her right." Tom replied, closing the door and dismissing Sherlock.

Sherlock got his phone out.

_Do you know where Molly Hooper is? – SH_

Within seconds another text came.

_Come to Diogenes, need to talk- MH_

Sherlock sighed, hailing a cab.

_No time, urgent matter. Need to know her location now SH_

_Come to Diogenes and I will tell you – MH._

Sherlock growled giving the Diogenes address to the cab driver.

"Hello brother!" Said Mycroft from his seat behind his desk as Sherlock walked in without knocking. "You could have knocked but I guess manners are not in your habits."

"And I presume simplicity is not in yours. Where is she?"

Mycroft gestured to the chair across from his desk. "Please, sit down, I have a time sensitive matter to discuss with you."

"I don't have the time Mycroft I-"

"You will make the time, Sherlock!" Mycroft stated adjusting his jacket. "The matter I want to talk about is a little bit more important than your gallivanting."

Sherlock sat down with a dramatic sigh. "I'm listening."

"You see, I received a few phone calls from some eminent members of the Franc mason telling me that my idiot of a brother has been following them not so discreetly." Mycroft rubbed his forehead. "The thing is, I know my brother is an idiot but I know he can be very discreet when he needs to be. I know that if these men saw you it was because you wanted to be seen. The question is why?"

"Why does it matter to you? Are your friends upset?"

"I have no friends." Mycroft spat. "And believe me or not but your safety and the one of the people you care about will be in jeopardy, these men are very powerful, and they won't stop at anything to keep their secrets."

"I wanted to be seen to make them nervous. When you're nervous, you slip up."

Mycroft laughed. "Please Sherlock, are you really that naive? These men have spent their whole life keeping this part of their life a secret; do you think that you 'Detective-extraordinaire,' will be enough to scare them?"

"Maybe."

"They will have you killed before that happens."

"Oh come on, killing me is so two years ago."

Mycroft sighed and rolled his eyes. "There is only so much I can do to keep you and your friends' safe, you know."

"Then don't, I never asked you to."

"Well, yes you did."

"Before I left, but now I'm back and it's fine."

"You promised to not do anything stupid!"

"And I don't believe I'm being stupid!"

"Yes well the bruise forming on your jaw is clearly stating otherwise. What are you doing now little brother, eh? After making friends you're getting involved in lover's quarrels? How primitive of you to fight in such a way for a woman. I thought you were more evolved."

"And I thought you were smarter." Sherlock stood up adjusting his collar. "Where is she?"

"Ah I see, are we going to go conquer the princess's heart? How touching!" Mycroft said, with a little mocking smirk on his face.

"Where is she?"

Mycroft sighed. "If you knew what was good for you, you would stay away. Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock. She will become a pressure point, a distraction you don't need - especially with all the extra stupid battles you are fighting these days."

"Mycroft..." Sherlock warned.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Very well," He looked at his computer screen. "She is staying at the St-Armand Hotel, room 307." He looked at Sherlock. "And don't tell me I didn't warn you." but the coldness in his eyes was gone for a minute leaving place to genuine concern.

"Duly noted brother, have a lovely night." Sherlock added before leaving the room to go see Molly.


	15. Chapter 15

**A.N: **Hey Sherlolly fans!

This chapter was quite a challenge as I wanted to stay true to Sherlock even in the most unfamiliar situation. I reread it about 20 times. Please let me know what you think. I tried to reply to every review if I missed you I am sorry. Thanks to Georgia my fantastic beta.

I still don't own Sherlock.

Steffy2106

**Chapter 15:**

Molly was just getting out of the shower when she heard a knock on the door.

"Room service," said a strongly accented voice.

"I didn't order anything." Molly replied, removing the towel from around her hair.

"I beg to differ, Madame. This order has your name on it."

Molly opened the door wide to find Sherlock standing in front of her with a bag of takeaway from her favourite Italian restaurant.

"You know you shouldn't open the door like that," he replied with a tentative smile. "It might be someone you don't want to see."

"Yes. You're the perfect example."

Sherlock's smile fell. "I'm sorry, you know, about everything…sincerely."

Molly sighed, feeling the deep pain in her chest. "You don't need to be sorry. What happened, happened and there's no need to burden yourself with some silly guilt, what happened had nothing to do with you."

"I know, I just need five minutes and I brought you food." He said raising the bag in front of her face, "It's from Luigi's."

Molly stomach gurgled loudly. She narrowed her eyes with suspicion. "What is it?"

"Their homemade lasagna." He sighed, extended the bag towards her. "Just give me five minutes, Molly and then if you still want me to go, I will. I promise."

Molly rolled her eyes and grabbed the bag. "Five minutes, Sherlock." She sat at the small table and opened the lasagna box as Sherlock started to pace back and forth in front of her.

"So..." Molly said with her mouth full as Sherlock kept pacing.

"I'm not a good man Molly, I'm selfish, I'm egotistical, abrasive and some people say I'm hard to get along with."

Molly raised her eyebrows; that was probably the understatement of the century.

"But the thing is, I never cared, it never mattered because in the end I love the person I am. What people think doesn't matter - most people aren't half as good as I am so why should I care what they want, you know?"

"I'm not sure I know where you're going with this, Sherlock, but you're walking a fine line. Insult me once and you're out of this room, lasagna or no lasagna."

"I'm not trying to insult you, Molly, quite the contrary!" He said, throwing up his hands with exasperation. "I'm not good at that, you know, so please be indulgent."

Molly stopped eating. The only thing she knew that Sherlock admitted to being bad at was feeling and expressing those feelings. A herd of wild butterflies appeared in her stomach.

Sherlock looked at her for a second; saw she was waiting and resumed his pacing. "Anyway, as I was saying, I've always considered myself to be better than anyone else so criticisms have never affected me. But I realized quite recently that there is one person that makes me want to be better, one person I wanted to make proud and this person is you, Molly," he said, turning to meet her eyes.

Molly's breath caught in her throat.

Sherlock gave her a half smile. "Of course John also plays an immense part in the man I am trying to become but you and him… it's different. That night we kissed, you made me react in ways that John never did and maybe that's a good thing because otherwise we would be having a _completely_ different conversation."

Molly knew he was trying to joke and she should have laughed but her heart was hammering so hard in her chest she had to concentrate on actually breathing. _Inhale Molly, exhale Molly_. She had to keep telling herself.

"I thought I didn't want you to leave because you are quite a good pathologist, maybe the best I've worked with, and I have to admit that your brain is probably a big reason why I had a little interest before this all started. I convinced myself that I disliked Tom and was irritated with you leaving because you were taking away _my _pathologist, but that wasn't the issue. You're a good pathologist, yes, but you're not irreplaceable. I could train another one of your colleague to be just as good."

Even with her emotions all over the place Molly rolled her eyes. Leave it to Sherlock to insult you in the middle of a compliment.

"I went to your house today with the mission to apologize for whatever I said last night but then I read the letter you wrote and I realized that my fear and anger was not as Tom trying to take my pathologist, but at him trying to take _my _Molly away. I'm not good with words or feelings, I don't have the heart of a poet but Molly… I am quite fond of you."

"You're quite fond of me?" She asked, voiced so high pitched she was embarrassed.

Sherlock smiled and stopped his pacing. "Come on, Molly, I think we both know that. I was just mistaken in the nature of my fondness for you. Don't get me wrong - I still believe feelings are a mistake, I still think that all matters of the heart are only good at causing chaos and are nothing but a weakness but the thing is, right at this moment I don't care. It doesn't matter and no matter how hard I tried to fight all of this nonsense it still snuck up on me. I guess I'm flawed because I always so strongly believed that sentiments were a chemical defect found on the losing side. I grew up believing that feeling would make me slower, not as...efficient, but when I told John, I realized at the ball that I'm better when I am with you, sharper, more focus and I didn't know why but now I know. As irrational as it seems you are calming me Molly, you are the positive effects of heroin without the destructive counterpart… or maybe those feelings I boast for you are the destructive counterpart, the death of the pure cold reason I hold above everything. Maybe my judgement is clouded. You said to me that I could never love you as much as Tom did. Well I want to believe this isn't true, I want you to give me a chance to try. I know I am a ridiculous man Molly, I know feelings, and romance and everything you are longing for is very foreign to me. I know I will mess up over and over again and hurt you even if I have no desire to do so. But if you were brave enough and willing to... Just give me a chance to try and be a better man. "

Molly cleared her throat loudly, knowing it would be thick with emotion. "Well, for someone who isn't good with feelings I have to say you did that pretty well. "

Sherlock sat at the foot of her bed with a smile. "I did reverse on my way here."

"So you want to have a relationship with me?"

Sherlock nodded. "I know I'm not what you view as the perfect mate. I did endure some romantic comedies with Mary - I know what you're expecting and I'm not sure I will ever be able to meet those absurdly high standards even if I wanted to, but yes, I want to experiment and explore what I am already feeling. If I have to get down, I'd rather go thoroughly."

"Spoken like a real scientist."

"So what do you say, Molly Hooper? "

"I love you, Sherlock." Molly stood and went to sit beside him on the bed. "You know why I left Tom?"

"Because I asked you to?"

Molly laughed but shook her head. "No Sherlock, I know you'd like to think you have eerie convincing skills but you don't, I just let you get your way. No." Molly looked down at her hand. "I left him not because of anything you said. I never expected you to be at my door tonight and tell me all these things. No, I left him because you were right. I could never love him the way I love you and it was not fair on him or on me. I tried, Lord know I tried but I realized last night that if it was you asking me to follow you, I would have done it, no question asked, no second thought and come what may." She let out a little humourless laugh. "You're like an inhibitor for stupid and reckless decisions and every time I get burnt but I would do it again. So yes Sherlock, yes I want to give it a try."

"And I will try not to make you regret it."

Molly laughed, looking up to meet Sherlock's eyes. "I know you will do your best."

Sherlock smiled and leaned in to give her a chaste kiss on the lips. He then licked his bottom lip. "You taste like garlic."

"Oh!" Molly brought her hand up on her lips, mortified. "I-m sorry... the lasagna I need to-" She started to stand when Sherlock grabbed her hand and forced her to sit again.

"I love garlic." Sherlock said playfully, leaning in again to kiss her more deeply this time.

When they finally separated Molly sighed. "I have to give it to you Sherlock Holmes, you are a very good kisser."

"It's mostly due to the woman I am kissing."

"My, my, Sherlock, are you actually being humble?"

"I'm trying."

"Do you…want to stay?" She asked, blushing.

"Very tempting offer but I have to decline."

"Oh… yeah… sorry." She said, mortified.

"Don't apologize, Molly, I am more than tempted believe me, but I want to do it right." Sherlock stood up from his spot on the bed and turned toward her "I want to take you out on a proper date tomorrow night."

Molly smiled brightly. "Okay where?"

"_Chez Jacques._"

"But..."

"Isn't it of your liking? We can go somewhere else."

"No, no _Chez Jacques_ is great, fantastic even. I never even been there but you don't need to impress me or anything Sherlock. This kind of expense is quite unnecessary really. A dinner with you at the corner fish and chips will be just as lovely."

Sherlock gave her an indulgent smile, bringing his hand up and gently brushing her cheek with the back of his hand.

This simple gesture took Molly's breath away. She had no idea that Sherlock was even capable of anything tender.

"You know getting a table at Jacques is close to impossible unless you know someone."

Sherlock scoffed. "Please give me more credit. I want a table and I'll have a table. It will probably cost me Christmas at my parents." He grinned. "Mycroft is just sadistic that way."

It was Molly's turn to cup Sherlock's cheek. He leaned into her touch with a sigh that seemed to be a sigh of satisfaction.

He turned his head slightly and kissed her palm. "So _Chez Jacques_? 7pm?"

"Yes. I'll meet you there."

Sherlock leaned down and gave her another slow kiss. "See you tomorrow, Molly." He turned around with a smile after exiting the room. "I like it." He said touching his lips. "I like these sensations. It's much better than I thought; I can see why people enjoy being fools."

Molly shook her head. "And wait a little Sherlock Holmes, it's about to get even better."

"I will hold you to that."

"I'm counting on it." She replied as flirtatiously as she could, hoping she didn't look completely deranged.

Sherlock winked, making her heart almost explode in her chest. She loved her usual Sherlock but the version she had since he came to her room would most likely be the death of her.

She closed the door and leaned against it, not able to wipe the huge smile from her face

**MSMSMSMSMMSMSSMSMSMSMSMSM**

Sherlock had never been nervous about anything before, but right now picking his clothes for his dinner with Molly he felt like a fool.

He picked his purple shirt, knowing it was her favorite and ruffled his hair just the way she liked it.

He growled when trying to pick a jacket.

"Oh for heaven's sake! It's just Molly." He said aloud, grabbing the first jacket he saw and walking out of the door.

Mycroft made good to his promise and the table Sherlock had was one of the best in the restaurant. It was almost worth the Christmas with the parents.

Sherlock looked at the menu for a while before looking at his watch. Molly was more than 10 minutes late and it was really out of character.

He frowned, reaching for his phone. Had she changed her mind? Did she realize that dating him was completely insane? He couldn't blame her.

Sherlock looked down and saw an envelope on his plate. He frowned, looking around. He paled seeing the seal at the back of the envelope. It was the same as the one Molly had drawn for him.

_Meet us in an hour or she is dead. Don't worry __if__ you can't wake the men upon the floor, __for they do not __wake up anymore._


End file.
